


(Can Anybody Find Me) Somebody to Love

by Starralyse



Category: Days of Our Lives
Genre: Chemistry Test, First Dates, First Meetings, First Time, M/M, Matchmaking, Multiple Relationship Fic, Shenanigans, Undisclosed endgame, attempted humour, blind dates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-12 18:43:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4490556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starralyse/pseuds/Starralyse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lonely entrepreneur (Sonny), is sent on a series of blind dates when his mother hires the services of a Jewish matchmaker (Anne Milbauer) to find him a mate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Matchmaker (Prologue)

"Tell me what you're looking for in a potential new cuddle-monkey," says the Matchmaker. 

 

"Eh?" says Sonny. 

 

He is sitting in the office of Anne Milbauer, the Matchmaker his mother had selected to find him a partner. His mother thought that this woman could find him his perfect mate.  _("She is, after all,_ Jewish _," Adrienne had said.)_

 

"What puts the shimmy in your sneakers?" Anne's words snap together in a clipped, sharp staccato. "Do you like the muscle men, the smooth talkers, or the sweet sensitive type - because _hel-lo_ , do I have _men_ for _you_." She leans in and motions him to come closer, speaking quietly. "I have an older client. He's very well preserved for his age. He has _mon-ey,"_ Anne whispers, she stressing both syllables equally. "I'm sure he'd treat you right, if you know what I mean."

 

"No," interrupts Sonny, rapidly leaning away. "No. _Just_ , _no_."

 

"Well, then." She turns suddenly business-like. "I need to get information from you: your turn-ons, turn-offs, interests, what you're looking for in a life partner." 

 

"That's fine," says Sonny. 

 

She opens a file, scrawling the name "Sonny Kiriakis" on the top of a sheet of note paper, underlining his name twice.

 

He waits.

 

"Are you a top or a bottom?" she fires at him suddenly, pointing at him with her finger.   

 

"What?" says Sonny. "You can't ask me that!"

 

"I need to know for my records. It's my job."

 

"That's way too personal, plus-"

 

"I'm a matchmaker; I put the **_personal_** back into **_personnel_** ," she says breezily. It has the feel of a catchphrase. Sonny is willing to bet she says it a lot.

 

"- Categorizing gay men by sexual position is archaic and offensive," finishes Sonny. "There are lots of variables involved in sexual-"

 

Anne scrawls the word, "bottom" on his file, under his name.  

 

"Hey!" Sonny says, annoyed. 

 

Anne changes it to " _variable_ bottom". 

 

Sonny sighs. 

 

"Perhaps you would prefer to fill out a questionnaire," Anne says. She leans back and pulls a typed wad of paper out of a drawer, and a ballpoint pen. She slides them over the table to him.  

 

Sonny picks up the questionnaire. It is seven (double-sided) pages. He sighs and gets to work. 

 

Ten minutes later he says, "Is it really necessary to know how much I earn in a year?"

 

"We are a full service agency," says Anne. 

 

"What does that even mean?"

 

"It means the more information we have, the better equipped we'll be at finding you a SLP."

 

"SLP?"

 

  
"In the industry," says Anne, "It is what is known as a _Suitable Life Partner_."

 

Sonny looks at her dubiously. 

 

As she reads through his questionnaire, Sonny looks around the room. 

 

Displayed on the far wall is a poster of a barely dressed man and woman hugging passionately on a storm-tossed beach. The man's stare to the camera is a dead-on impression of _Zoolander's_ " _Blue Steel"_. The girl looks like she had a bad 80s perm whilst auditioning for the _Flintstones_ movie. 

 

"So, um, do you have many gay clients?" he asks.  

 

"Of course I do," says Anne. "Most of my clients are gay. What can I say? Gays love a _Yentl -_   Barbra and all that."

 

"I think you might mean _yenta_ ," says Sonny. "Like, you know, ' _Hello Dolly'?_ "

 

Anne tries to stare him down.  

 

Sonny says, "Wasn't " _Yentl"_ the one where she pretended to be a man so she could study the Talmud at an all male yeshiva?" 

 

Anne gives up. 

 

"Never mind that," she says, disposing of the entire conversation with an airy wave of her hand. "Do I have the perfect first date for you, or what?" She opens her laptop. "What?" Anne screeches at the screen. "That cow!"

 

"I'm sorry," says Sonny, standing up. "But I - _um_ \- I think I've changed my mind. You can keep the fee." He walks to the door. 

 

In a minute Anne is around the desk and barring the doorway. "Wait!" she says, holding one hand out.

 

"I really don't think that this is going to work out," says Sonny.  

 

"You're not going to quit, just like that? What about wanting to find a SLP? Or was all of that just _posturing_?"

 

"I don't remember that conversation," says Sonny. "And I only met you for the first time twenty minutes ago. It was my mother who hired you, and convinced me to come here."

 

"Fine!" says Anne. "If you want to be a quitter, then you can just go. _Go_!"

 

"Perhaps you can get your hand off the door," says Sonny. "You're blocking my way."

 

Anne leans forward. "All right, then. If you're going to play  _hard ball_. How about I make you a deal? If you agree to take a look at the profile of the first candidate - just a _look_ \- I'll let you leave without interference, if you still want to go."

 

Sonny thinks about it and nods. He is, after all, quite curious. Even if he thinks that Anne's ability to find him a mate is analogous with a fish being able to teach a giraffe to roller skate. Sonny does not have a lot of luck when it comes to the same sex. He is the kind of man that other men like as a friend, but don't want to date. The last man he'd been interested in had called him _"reliable"_. 

 

Anne is flicking between the answers on his profile, and the information on her computer screen. 

 

"Well?" says Sonny after a few minutes. 

 

"Just a minute," says Anne. "You can't rush a professional."

 

Sonny sighs. He looks back up at the poster on the wall. In spite of the stupid expression, the man is not terrible to look at. _Seriously? Did he just think that? He should probably just go._

 

"Ta Da!" Anne turns around the computer to reveal Sonny's first candidate. 

 

In spite of himself, Sonny's heart skips a little beat. The boy - _man_ \- on the screen is beautiful, with a shy sweet smile and cornflower blue eyes.

 

"Can I meet him?" says Sonny.

 

\---

 

When Anne said that most of her clients were gay, she wasn't exaggerating. The only clients she had left were gay men. 

 

Since she'd bought the _Bliss! Jewish Dating Agency_ three months ago, a bad personal assistant and an indifferent new owner had turned a once successful business into a sinking, stinking _failure_. 

 

She'd been forced to fire her personal assistant Theresa. Theresa had, in turn, given her the finger and slammed the door as she'd stalked out. (And then had snuck back in later to scribble " _See you later, Loser_ " on Anne's laptop and steal the coffee machine.)

 

Now Anne was the only person left to do the work.  _Without coffee!_

 

Since Theresa hadn't done any paper work, filed any paper work, kept any paper work, (or done any work at all as far as Anne could tell), Anne was a little uncertain who her clients were, and what, if anything, they still expected the agency to do for them. 

 

Anne's most promising client was Walter Moss. Maybe Walter was a little too old, and a little too orange from spray-tanning solution, but what he didn't have too much of, was _money_. He'd paid for twenty expensive lunches at Anne's favourite four star restaurant, and Anne still hadn't introduced him to any eligible men. He was the golden goose that kept on giving.  

 

Then there were the others.

 

Through careful discreet questioning, and "active listening" to the irate phone calls left on her answering service, Anne had pieced together that she still had at least three paying clients left, apart from Sonny, her newest client.

 

The most mysterious of her clients was (possibly) Japanese, she guessed, based on the torrent of eloquent foreign language abuse that streamed through her messaging service. When he finally stopped yelling, he cryptically threatened to sequence her in actual person if she didn't get her American ass back off the pot and find his most regal client a girlie man. When she tried to get more information about his client, he told her it was a basic need to know and hung up. A week later, a 200 page non-disclosure agreement was mailed to her business address, requiring her immediate signature. Anne put it in a drawer. She would look at it later.  _Maybe_.

 

The second most promising client she had was a young University graduate named William Roberts. His grandmother Kate had hired her predecessor to "discreetly" find an experienced and gentle young gay man to help her grandson transition to the gay lifestyle. Anne interpreted that to mean Kate wanted Will to have gay sex, but not the rough trade kind. Quiet, hot, and undemanding, Will would have been the dream client, if it wasn't for his family. His grandmother Kate was an evil, sharp-tongued, vindictive bitch who never failed to take an opportunity to harangue Anne over the phone, threatening her with a law suit if she didn't honour the contract and find her grandson a suitable " _date"_. 

 

In an act of sheer desperation, Anne had tried setting him up with her libidinous brother Brian, but whatever had happened between the boys had sent Kate off into another phone rant. The only clue Anne had to what had happened was an email from her brother telling her to stop sending him virgins. 

 

And, as tragic as it sounds, _her brother_ was her other client. At her mother's urging, her cheapskate step-father (not Jewish) had paid Anne a cut-rate fee to find his profligate son a nice steady girlfriend. (And that was actually likely, thought Anne, if girlfriend was spelt "g-a-y"). Anne's mother, who was a little more realistic, asked Anne to find her lovely Brian a nice, possibly Jewish, doctor boyfriend. 

 

In a curious twist of fate, nobody who was Jewish had ever hired Anne as a matchmaker. 

 


	2. Dating and Desserts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonny goes out on the first date made by the Bliss! Jewish Dating Agency. Anne hatches a new plan.

Sonny's email from the _Bliss! Jewish Dating Agency_ directs him to a friendly Irish pub just off Horton Town Square, where Will Roberts suggested they should meet for their date. Sonny is ten minutes early.

He looks around at the few scattered people seated around the pub, and it appears that he is the first to arrive. He seats himself at one of the booths, and checks his appearance in the mirror-like surface of the napkin holder, tweaking his hair and straightening his white shirt. Then he sits and waits.

A pretty girl in a green apron comes to his table and tries to take his order. He tells her that he's waiting for someone and they'll order later.

Ten minutes pass, and a new waiter comes to his table, and says, "Hello, may I get you something to eat or drink from our menu?"

Sonny is about to refuse, but when he looks at the waiter, he says "Will", and smiles.

"Um, hello," says Will, uncertainly.

"Hi!" Says Sonny, happily. "I didn't realise that you worked here."

Will says, “I'm sorry, but - who are you?”

Sonny says, “It's me, Sonny - um - from the agency ... The -um- Bliss-"

"Yes, I'm familiar with the agency," says Will, looking around furtively and speaking in a low voice. “But what are you doing, _here_ , where I _work_?”

“We had a date arranged?” It is Sonny who sounds doubtful now. “Maybe I got the date wrong...” He pulls out his phone, and flicks his thumb up the screen, scrolling rapidly, searching out the email the agency sent and quickly checking it. "I have the email here. Maybe you didn't get my reply?”

He shows his phone to Will.

“More likely I didn't send the email,” mumbles Will, reading it.

Sonny looks distressed.

Will says quickly. “I didn't mean it that way. It's not that I wouldn't have – I mean – It was my grandmother! She sent it because she is a control freak, and she knew I didn't want to go on any more dates.”

“Oh,” says Sonny.

“It's not you, I'm just taking a break from the whole dating - _thing_ \- in general, you know?”

“Oh,” says Sonny, not really any clearer. “Why?”

“It's sort of a long story,” says Will. “I had a - bit of a - bad dating experience with someone the agency sent."

Sonny says, “Wasn't he a nice guy?”

Will looks around and sees that the café is nearly empty of customers, so he leans in to tell his story. “I thought he was,” he says. "But – I only came out quite recently, so I hadn't gotten around to telling my granddad yet. And I was with this guy, on a date, and my granddad came over to the table, and he kept looking at my date, wondering who he was, and he said, “ _Who's your friend, Will_?” and I - _introduced the guy as one of my friends from Uni._ ”

“I assume he didn't like that?” said Sonny.

“No,” says Will, sitting down. “And the guy said, “ _Actually, I'm not,”_ and my granddad said, _“Not what, son?_ ” And he said, “Not one of Will's friends from Uni”. And my granddad gives him _this look,_ then he said, “ _Who is this man, Will?_ ” And the guy said, “ _Yeah, Will. Tell him who I am.””_

Will pauses.

“What did you say?”

“I said, “ _Just some jerk_ ,” and then this guy takes some bills out of his wallet and puts them on the table – _for the coffee and tip_ – then gets up and moves to another table nearby and _orders a danish_ ,” says Will.

“How did your granddad react?” Sonny asks.

“He kept asking questions, and I told him some story. But the guy was just sitting there, the whole time, you know, _watching and listening. Eating a danish. Bastard_."

“Do you think he wanted to continue the date?” asks Sonny.

“What?” says Will.

“Maybe he was really into you,” says Sonny, who could easily see how that was possible.

“No, because afterwards he asked me if I was _ashamed_ of being gay – and I said, “ _no_ ” – and he was all, like, “Why wouldn't you tell him, then?” As if it was any of his business, anyway,” says Will. “Acting like it was some kind of _personal insult._ ”

“Some guys have a hard time with having to hide who they are," says Sonny.

“It's nobody else's business who I tell and who I don't,” says Will. “It was _my_ granddad. _My_ personal business to tell.”

“Yes,” says Sonny. “But, I think it was the lying that got to him. As if being gay was anything to be ashamed about.”

“But that's not what I meant, _at all_. I just wanted to choose a better moment to tell my granddad, that's all. In private.”

“I can see that,” says Sonny.

“You're a good guy,” says Will. “You're not like him at all. Thank you - for not - judging me.”

“I think that gay people have the right to come out in their own way, when they're ready,” Sonny says.

A new customer walks into the café. Will gets up.

“I – uh – I have to serve now. I'm still on shift.”

“Yeah, okay,” says Sonny. “It was nice talking to you.”

Will nods and smiles back.

Sonny thinks that he might sit in the pub for a while and order something to eat with coffee. He looks over the menu.

He really, really wants a danish, but he is worried that Will might get the wrong impression, so he decides to order the New York Cheesecake instead.

 

* * *

 

Usually Anne would dodge her mother's invitations to dinner by letting the answering machine pick them up, but today, she'd been so distracted by the removal company trying to repossess her furniture, that she'd answered without checking the caller ID first, and committed herself to dinner at _Chez Milbauer._

Her mother welcomes her warmly, and gives her a pastry, and Anne thinks that family get togethers would be fine, if it was just this; warm welcomes and pastries, and then she could just leave. But she knows that there is an interrogation on the way, and she suddenly puts her pastry down, her appetite instantly spoilt.

"Is Brian coming?" asks Anne, sourly.

Not that his appearance would have lessened her ordeal to come, or improved her night; Brian was a medical student; Brian was the captain of his crew team; Brian was handsome and perfect. Brian was also a devious, arrogant shit - but for some reason those qualities, it would seem, were only apparent to her. Everybody else was blinded by his handsome face and those pearly white teeth.

"No," says her mother. "He studies too hard."

I _bet_ , thinks Anne.

"How is the agency doing?" asks her mother. _(Scenting failure from 100 paces, like a mountain lion scenting a deer on the wind.)_

"It's going great," says Anne, bullshitting for all she's worth.

"Hmmph," puffs Ellen. "Are you seeing anyone yet, Annie? Do you have a nice young man?" _(And the lion goes in for the kill.)_

"I tell you what Ma," says Anne. "Next time I go on a date, I'll send you a bulletin."

"What about the place where you work? Aren't there any suitable men, there?"

"You mean the agency that I _own_? (Even if she is just barely able to hold on to it). Most of my clients are _gay_."

"Oh," says Ellen. Then more brightly, "Oh! _Annie_ , have you found a nice boy for Brian yet?"

And it's ridiculous, because Brian sees more action in one night than Anne gets the whole year, and yet Anne is expected to waste her valuable time and resources trying to find him a man. And when he doesn't bring home a boyfriend, she can see it all now; it will become Anne's fault that Brian hasn't settled down, because she wasn't able to get him dates with suitable young men.

Anne is on the verge of letting her mother down not-so-gently once again, when she realises that this time, she doesn't have to.

Anne can set up Brian with as many suitable mother-approved dates as she can dredge up, and when Brian rejects them all, he will finally be revealed, in all his glory, for the capricious, self-centred, insufferable, philandering man-whore that he really is. Her plan is almost flawless.

So Anne says, "Actually, I've just gotten a brand new client -"

Anne takes out her mobile phone with Sonny's photo and profile on it, and proceeds to sell him as suitable son-in-law material for all she's worth.

When Anne leaves that night, her mother presses her into a hug and they agree to meet again next week.

Her mother will be baking a strudel.

 

* * *

 

Will sees his father enter the pub, and tells Sonny that he has to work, it's still his shift.

Sonny gives him a sweet smile and Will smiles back. The smile is still on his face when he goes to the bar to greet his dad.

Lucas says, "Who was that you were talking to?"

Will tells him it was a customer. They talk about family for a while.

When Gabi walks by with a tray, Will says, "Can you do me a favour Gabi? See if the guy at the booth wants a coffee or something?"

Gabi says, "He told me he was waiting for his date. Was he stood up?"

"Something like that," says Will. "But don't mention it, hey. He probably doesn't want to talk about it."

Gabi delivers her round of drinks.

"You haven't asked _me_ if I want something to eat or drink, yet," says Lucas.

"You're staying?"

"If I can get some service," says Lucas. "I'll take the usual, over there." He points to a spot near the booths, close to the table where Sonny is sitting.

Will says, "Why don't you sit at the bar, that way you can talk to me whilst I'm working."

"You know I'd love to, but I have a few phone calls to make and it's quieter over there." He settles into a booth.

Will takes out his mobile and calls his grandmother.

"What did you think you were doing?" he says.

"You can thank me later," says Kate. "Do you like him?"

"I don't really know, thanks to you, because I'm at work serving my dad, who's sitting nearby."

"Bummer," says Kate. "What's Lucas doing there?"

"He came here to eat, presumably. I gotta go." Will hangs up on her.

Gabi says, "New York Cheesecake and a cappuccino."

"What?"

"I agreed to take the order for you, but I have my own customers to serve." She points at another table where a gaggle of university aged guys and girls are talking and laughing.

Will passes his dad's order on to the kitchen. He starts making the cappuccino. He serves Sonny first.

Sonny says, "It was my mother's idea, too, that's why I'm here."

Will is aware that his father is nearby and could be listening. "Here's your cheesecake. Chef's speciality. It's - um - really nice."

Sonny says, "She set me up with the dating agency. I didn't want to go at first, either."

Will says, "And now you've been stood up by your date. Sucks double."

Sonny laughs. "Yeah, I've been " _stood up_ ". But, I kind of liked tonight any way. I enjoyed talking with you earlier."

There's a pause.

"Enjoy your coffee," says Will, trying to bring the conversation to a close.

"Will, wait," Sonny takes hold of his hand for a moment. "I was just thinking, if you just wanted to talk again, here's my number."

He brings out a card with his mobile number scribbled on it and hands it to him.

Will says, "Um, thanks. Excuse me, I just need to see to an order."

He hurries up to the bar, trying to get out of there.

His dad follows after him.

"I couldn't believe my ears," says Lucas "Did that guy just hit on you?"

"It was nothing," says Will.

"All the same, that was pretty _brazen of him,_ just assuming you were gay, and giving you his card."

Gabi is passing by and hears. "Did I hear you right? Did that guy just hit on Will? _That's hilarious_."

"It's not funny," says Lucas. "Will, you need to set him straight. He could come back, and it's not fair to lead him on."

"He should come back. We could use the customers," says Gabi.

Will says, "Just leave it alone, would you, Dad? It was no big deal."

"You're blushing," says Gabi.

Lucas picks up the card. "Sonny Kiriakis."

"Dad-" Will warns.

"I'm not going to be mean," Lucas says."Trust your old man."

He walks towards Sonny.

"Excuse me," Lucas says.

Sonny looks up.

"I think you dropped this."

Lucas hands back Sonny's card.

Sonny looks towards the bar, where Will is standing; watching, blank-faced.

"Thank you," he says.

Sonny looks down at his plate and finishes his dessert and coffee. Will watches him as he comes up to the bar to settle his bill, not looking at Will.

Gabi runs his credit card through the register and tells him she hopes he has a nice evening. He says goodbye to her.

When he has left, Gabi says. "Poor guy."

Lucas says, "It is kinder this way in the long run." 

Will says nothing.


	3. Missed Connections

Emails. 

* * *

On August 18, 2015, _**Kate Roberts** _ wrote:

 

Hi Miss Milbauer,

I don't know if you remember me, I am Kate Roberts'

grandson, Will. Last night, you set me up on a date with

Sonny Kiryakis? I was wondering whether you could

give me a phone number or email address so I could

contact him? I think he may have inadvertently got the

impression that I didn't like him, which is completely

untrue!

 

If you can't give me his contact information, can you ask

him to contact me instead. (Email and mobile below).

Thanks!

Will.

* * *

 On August 19, 2015, _**Sonny Kiriakis** _ wrote:

 

Dear Ms Milbauer,

I recently logged into my profile on your website, and I

noticed that Will Roberts is still on my dating list. I was

wondering whether he has contacted you about our

date at all?

 

I am looking forward to your response.

Sincerely,

Sonny Kiriakis 

* * *

 On August 19, 2015, _**Brian** _ wrote:

 

Anne,

Could you please tell mother that I am not interested in dating any more of the loser rejects from your agency?

Brian.

 

(I'm assuming that, of this email, your agency is still in business.)

* * *

 

On August 19, 2015, _**AgentExtraordinaire** _ wrote:

 

Dear Miss Milbauer,

We are coming in 3 days. Pleased to see you then. Sign contract first.

どうもありがとう

 

* * *

 

 On August 20, 2015, _**WalterM** _ wrote:

 

Hello my sweet! It's been an age since I heard from you last.

 

How about we pop open a bottle of bubbly and have a lovely

dinner at Salem's answer to the _Metropole_. I will order a bucket

of oysters and two flame-caressed brulés, and afterwards we can trip

the light fantastic together.

 

Oh -- and talk about my dating profile if you want. (I have some

cheeky new pictures of myself that would work beautifully on my profile,

but I need your discerning eye to look them over first.)

 

Ciao darling,

Walter

 

* * *

 

On August 20, 2015, _**WillRoberts1234@gmail.com** _ wrote:

 

Hi Miss Milbauer,

Since I haven't heard from you, I am assuming that

my previous email has somehow gotten lost. You

recently set me up on date with Sonny Kiryakis? Could

you please tell him that I am very sorry about how the

date ended, and ask him whether he would be willing

give me a second chance?

 

Thanks in advance.

Will. 

 

* * *

 

Sonny waits for an email from the agency to find out if Will wants to go on a second date. Although, _technically_ , they never went on a “first” date, Sonny is encouraged when he logs into the dating website and notices that Will hasn't taken himself off Sonny's dating list.

 

 _Yet_.

 

He contacts Anne at the agency.

 

"Did Will call?" he asks, when Anne answers the line. "What did he say?"

 

"Hold on to your horses, _Hotpants,_ " says Anne. "There are other matters we need to get into first." She asks him to meet her at her office and rattles off a time.

 

This time around, Sonny notices that the _Bliss! Jewish Dating Agency_ appears to be more sparsely decorated than before. All of the cupboards and the conference table are gone, as well as Anne's 80s-style dating poster.

 

"We're in the process of redecorating," says Anne, from behind her desk. It is the only piece of furniture in the room, apart from the chairs they are both sitting on.

 

The legs of Sonny's chair wobble a bit.

 

"Have you heard from Will?" says Sonny.

 

"First things first. I need you to fill in a _date_ _audit_." Anne passes him another questionnaire.

 

Sonny explains that _technically_ it wasn't a date and then tells her what happened.

 

"Pitiful," says Anne. "No, _not you_. I am profoundly shocked by the situation. It is absolutely disgraceful, and outrageous, and I will look into it thoroughly. _Yadda, yadda, yadda_. Which brings me to the matter of your  _next date_.” Anne leans over the table. "He's a medical student, athletic: he's captain of his crew team, good-looking...”

 

"But - I really like _Will_ ,” says Sonny. “Do you know if he wants to see me again?"

 

Anne says, "It is company policy not to re-date the same parties until at least ten working days have passed. That way, all the participants involved have time to make measured, calculated decisions about their dating options. Which brings me back to the matter of your next date. His name is Brian, and he is on the dean's list-"

 

Sonny says, "Actually? I'd rather wait for Will's feedback? I think I felt a definite _thing_ , there."

 

“You felt a _thing_?” says Anne quickly. “Did he touch you _inappropriately_?”

 

“No, _no_ ,” says Sonny sincerely.

 

“Too bad,” says Anne. “Better luck next time. And, on that note-”

 

Sonny sees that she is about to wind into another spiel.

 

“You must be some kind of dating _genius_ ,” he says, rising suddenly.

 

“Huh?” says Anne. She looks at him warily, as if he has just lost his mind.

 

“Being a client of the _Bliss! Jewish Dating Agency_ is _the best thing_ I've ever done! Imagine, I come to you for the first time and you hit it out of the park on the first run. _Incredible_. I have to tell all of my _friends_ about you.”

 

“Ah, thanks?” says Anne uncertainly.

 

“You found me my true compatible _SLP_ in less than a day. Thank you!” says Sonny, shaking her hand warmly. “Thank you. You're the best!”

 

“You're welcome?” says Anne.

 

“So you'll be in touch with me when Will gets back in contact?” says Sonny.

 

“Yes?” Anne says.

 

“Excellent,” says Sonny. “I'll see you in a week.”

 

* * *

 

Anne goes to see her mother. She supposes that she will have to eat crow for the whole Sonny Kiriakis debacle. Anne doesn't do humble well. She is hoping that the strudel her mother promised will make up for it. 

 

Her mother has company; her friend Valda. They're both seated at the kitchen having coffee and devouring pastries from her mother's favourite china set.

 

"Annie, sweetie," greets her mother. "I have made some baklava."

 

Anne sits down to sweets and tea.

 

Valda gets straight into it. "Ellen tells me you couldn't find a man for young Brian."

 

Her mother says, " _Shh_ , Valda, it's not her fault."

 

_This is surprising._

 

"You'd think they'd be queuing down the block for a strapping young man like that," Valda says.

 

"Oh, they are," Anne says bitterly.

 

"But they're not _nice_ boys," says Anne's mother. "This Sonny seemed to be a nice boy. You say he wanted to keep seeing the first boy, what was his name?"

 

"Will Roberts," says Anne.

 

"It sounds like a fake name," says Valda. " _Shady_."

 

"I assure you his grandmother is very real, and very well known in Salem," says Anne. _By some more than others._

 

"Brian wouldn't meet with Sonny," says Anne's mother. "I asked him several times. Its such a shame. I had high hopes for this Sonny."

 

"Did you show him Brian's picture?" says Valda.

 

"No," says Anne.

 

"You should have showed him the picture," says Valda, nodding wisely. "Or better yet; several. If you show me, I could help you choose. It should preferably be something that shows a little skin." Valda's eyes get a faraway look, then she suddenly realises both Anne and her mother are staring at her and she snaps out of it. "For the dating profile."

 

"What did you think, Anne," says her mother, not letting go of the topic. "Did you think this Sonny was a good match for our Brian?"

 

Anne hadn't really given it much thought. Or any thought at all, really. Sonny had just been conveniently at hand.

 

She thought about it now. Sonny would just be a few inches shorter than Brian. Brian would like that. He had a nice smile. No, strike that, a beautiful smile. She imagines the both of them together and suddenly feels lightheaded.

 

"It's possible that he may have been too nice," she says automatically, in a voice that sounds soft and dreamy, and not like her usual tone. "It all really depends on what he's like in the sack."

 

Then she snaps out of it.

 

Valda and her mother stare at her.

 

 _Oops_.

 

Anne shrugs.

 

"You were right about her, Ellen," says Valda. "She has _The Gift._ "

 

"What?" says Anne.

 

"My mother was a natural matchmaker," says Valda. "I have seen it before and you have it; _The Gift._ "

 

 _Crackers_ , thinks Anne.

 

"My mother was ridiculed," says Valda. "Called a ' _yenta_ ' in the modern meaning of the term; a gossip. But in the old days, yentas were revered and respected for their gifts. It was their business to know all the town's personal business, otherwise how could they do their jobs and steer their charges towards their perfect matches?"

 

"How indeed?" echoes Anne's mother.

 

Anne wonders if she is buying this bullshit.

 

They both look at her. No, she didn't just say that out loud.

 

"Annie," says her mother. "If you believe that Sonny is the one for Brian, then I believe in you. You have to make it happen."

 

Valda says, "I know a lot of Jewish dentists. That may help."

 

Anne's mother nods.

 

 _Crackers_ , thinks Anne. _Both of them._ She would usually be snarky by this point, but these women are just too tragic to mock. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Anne sees three burly dark-haired men in her office, she assumes that they have come to repossess her desk. 

 

"You're not taking my desk!" shouts Anne, flying onto the desk and straddling the top of it. 

 

Three distinctly Asian-featured men look at each other, nonplussed. 

 

The shortest, a tidy man in a dark blue suit, speaks in a foreign language. One of the men next to him translates. 

 

"Did you sign the non-disclosure agreement?" Big and Burly says, in perfect American-accented English. 

 

"So you're not here to take the desk?" Anne says, puzzled now. 

 

Big and Burly translates. The suited man raises an eyebrow and studies the desk that Anne is currently prostrated upon. He speaks again. 

 

Big and Burly says, "It is not his style of desk. He prefers modern, clean lines."

 

The suited man speaks again. 

 

Big and Burly says, "But, thank you."

 

The suited man starts speaking rapidly again for several minutes. 

 

After a while Big and Burly turns back to Anne and says, "If you will but sign the non-disclosure agreement, we will be happy to take you to our client, who will be able to tell you what he is looking for in a man. Any person you select for our client, must agree to sign a non-disclosure agreement prior to learning any information or seeing any photographic likeness of our client. He will not be able to see, talk to, or read our client's profile unless he agrees to these conditions. Furthermore, no mention of my client, or electronic or physical copy of his image or personal information shall be allowed to be kept in any file or electronic copy in this office, unless disguised by a pseudonym. No image of my client will appear in any file or copy attached to that information. Any correspondence will take place through my email. Is this agreed?"

 

The suited man speaks again, and a third man comes forward with a briefcase. Anne repositions herself on the desk so he can rest the case on it. He snaps it open. Anne stares into a suitcase full of money. 

 

"Where do I sign?" says Anne. 

 

She is handed a bulky legal document. She pretends to read it for a while, then gives up, saying, "What the hell." She signs it. 

 

The suited man speaks and Big and Burly translates again. "We will pay you double your usual fee, for your trouble and discretion. If our client is happy with your service, you will be paid a bonus."

 

"But," says Anne, "What about the suitcase of money?"

 

Big and Burly says, "Sometimes he just likes to show that for effect."

 

The suited man speaks again. Big and Burly says, "Our client will be in town in two days, and we shall request the honour of your company then."

 

"どうもありがとう," says the man in the suit. 

 

* * *

 

On August 23, 2015, **_Saul Levinson_** wrote:

 

Dear Ms Milbauer, 

 

I am writing to you to inform you that my client, Theresa Donovan, is suing the _Bliss! Jewish Dating Agency_

for unfair dismissal.

 

Should you wish to discuss it, my client has expressed to me that she may be willing to consider

an out of court settlement, if an appropriate financial recompense can be agreed upon. 

 

I can be contacted at my office during business hours, 8.30 am to 4.30pm, Monday to Friday, 

at the phone numbers below.  

 

Yours Sincerely, 

_Saul Levinson,_

_Attorney_

_Levinson, Burger & Strauss Legal Services. _

 

* * *

 

 

On August 22, 2015,  _ **Brian**_ wrote:

 

Fine! I will agree to meet with your agency stooge, if it means your mother will stop trying to set

me up with every gay Jewish dentist and lawyer in the area.

 

One date only, and he better be worth it.

Brian.

   

* * *

On August 22, 2015, _**Anne** _ wrote:

 

I will find you someone male and breathing, man whore. Exactly your type.

 

| _On August 22, 2015,_ _**Brian** _ _wrote:_

|

| _One date only, and he better be worth it._

| _Brian._

 

 


	4. Coffee and Circumstance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne and Jennifer have a run in; Kate gives Will dating advice; Brian pays a visit to The Bliss Jewish Dating Agency and likes what he sees; Anne views Will in a new light; Sonny questions Anne about the compulsory re-dating period; Anne ambushes Sonny with a new suitor; Theresa's attorney pays Anne a visit; Anne meets her "possibly Japanese" client for the first time.

 

Anne is hung over and nauseous from the bottle of champagne and bucket of oysters she guzzled down the night before. Halfway through combing her hair, she feels the overwhelming urge to vomit, and runs to the bathroom to hang her head over the toilet rim. It is one o'clock before she leaves for the office, with a massive headache and a tongue that feels like sandpaper has been _glued to it_.

She bumps into someone coming the other way through Horton Square and stumbles, losing her shoe.

 _"You!"_ Anne says with loathing.

 _"Anne Milbauer,"_ says her arch nemesis, Jennifer Horton. 

Jennifer registers Anne's unkempt and hunched appearance with amusement.

"Are things so bad with your new business that you're _dumpster diving_ already? What's that in your hair? Is that ...  _vomit?"_

Anne stills.  _Please, no!_

"Hold still." Jennifer goes through her hand bag. 

She pulls out her mobile. 

"I want to remember this moment,  _forever."_ She snaps a photo.

"I think I'm going to hang this in my office," says Jennifer. "No, wait - maybe the cafeteria notice board - where everyone you used to work with can admire it and feel nostalgic - _about your dismissal._ "

Anne gives her the finger.

 _"Classy,"_ says Jennifer, snapping again.

"You're going to regret the day you ever crossed me," says Anne, attempting to pick up her dignity. She picks up her fallen shoe instead. The heel is broken but she puts it on anyway.

She hobbles away, Jennifer's derisive laughter ringing in her ears.

 

* * *

 

Will wishes that he had told his  _other_  grandmother that he was gay  _instead_.

Kate says, "You need to get back on the bucking bronco, and when it throws you off, just get right back on that  _bull_ _again_." 

He suspects that Grandma Kate is using the bucking bronco as a metaphor for sex, and the bull as a metaphor for gay men. That is why he is a writer. He understands the whole  _metaphor_ thing.

_What's it for? It's a metaphor!_

"Will, are you even listening to me?" says Kate.

"Yes, Grandma Kate," says Will.

"I hate to see you so mopey," says Kate. "This isn't what I intended when I bought you the membership to that dating service. I wanted you to go out with boys -  _plural_  - and have fun. Not get _hung up_ on the first gay man you met."

"It was the second," says Will. 

She takes his hands in both of hers and stares into his eyes. He feels the cool metal bands of her rings against his fingers. For a moment he wonders how many she is wearing. _(It's five.)_

_Five rings from five failed relationships? Five ex-husbands? He's lost count._

"Will," she says. "I want you to experience  _everything_  that life has to offer."

"Yes, Grandma."

" _So what_  if things with this second boy didn't work out? It doesn't mean you can't try  _again_."

"You're right, Grandma," says Will.

"You bet I am," says Kate, happy to have affected this turn-around so quickly.

"I gave up too quickly. I should try calling the agency again," says Will. "If Anne doesn't pick up, I'll keep calling and emailing until she does!" He zips out of his chair and starts punching the agency's numbers into his mobile.

Kate sighs and snaps her fingers across the room until Gabi comes over with her order pad.

"I'll have a  _double espresso_ , please," says Kate.

 

* * *

 

Brian visits Anne's agency after finishing his shift at the hospital. He figures that a two-thirty drop-in would give her plenty of time for one of her extended lunch breaks, and then some.

He is wrong.

When he arrives, there is already another man standing outside Anne's office, and Anne still hasn't arrived. 

Usually, upon finding Anne gone, Brian would just thank his lucky stars and leave. But this time, that would mean walking away from this perfectly lovely stranger, when Brian hasn't even found out if he is gay. 

_Potential is a wonderful thing._

Brian slows down to take a good look.

"She not in?" says Brian.

"No," says the stranger.

Brian leans against the opposite wall and blatantly eyes him up and down.

The stranger notices that Brian is staring at him, and looks down at his shoes. He doesn't look up again.

Brian hears a noise from down the corridor and glances that way. A man in a grey uniform is unlocks a service door.

When he looks back, the stranger is looking in the same direction as he is. Their eyes meet.

For a casual glance, their gazes hold for a little too long. 

_Ding, Ding, Ding! You have a winner!_

Brian's gaydar is going off like fireworks.

"Cleaner," says the stranger about the disturbance, and goes back to studying his shoes.

It isn't the most promising of beginnings, but Brian has worked with less.

 

* * *

 

After her disastrous skirmish with J-Hag, Anne spends another ten minutes in the washroom of  _The Brady Pub_ , before she feels ready to face the world again.

She is standing behind a potted palm when she notices that one of the waiting staff is Will Roberts.

 _God damn it! Is she never allowed_ any  _freedom from work?_

She is wondering whether she can slip past without being seen, but just as she is about to try, Jennifer Horton comes through the front door. Anne slips back against the wall again, out of sight. After a minute, she peeks through the palm, separating the fronds with her fingers, to see if the way is clear. She is shocked by what she sees.

Jennifer Horton is hugging Will Roberts and kissing him on the cheek! 

_What!_

Why is that bony bitch kissing  _Anne's client?_

Anne's _gay_ client.

 _What fresh new_ insanity  _is this?_  

"You take care, now," says Her Scrawniness. "And don't forget dinner on Friday!"

"I won't, Aunt Jen," says Will.

Anne freezes.

Aunt Jen?  _Aunt_  Jen.

_Will Roberts is a Horton spy!_

  

* * *

 

When Anne finally makes it into the office, both Sonny and Brian arewaiting outside her office door.

Sonny suddenly looks very relieved when she arrives. 

Brian gives her a smug look and stands to one side letting Sonny enter the office waiting area ahead of him. When Anne looks back, she sees him checking out Sonny's behind. 

 _Pig_.

In the privacy of Anne's inner office, she sees Sonny alone first. He asks if Will has been in contact.

"It's been 8 days," Sonny says. "And you said that the waiting period was 7."

"Let me log onto his dating profile," says Anne, turning on her laptop.

That's when she discovers that that  _Horton spy_  has been clogging her inbox with spamming emails.

_She should throw him out on his ass, not set him up with dates!_

And she would, if Kate Roberts hadn't already paid up.  _(And if she didn't need the money)._

She selects his emails and presses the 'delete' button. 

Anne tells Sonny, "Sorry, no date."

"But-" says Sonny. "You have his  _date audit_ , now, don't you? Did he say why?"

"I can't tell you what another client has revealed to me in confidence."

In actuality, nobody but Sonny had ever bothered to complete a date audit, and Walter was the only other client she had who bothered to update his online profile (she shudders at the 'sexy' photos he showed her last night at dinner). 

She looks at Will's profile. It's sad. She wonders whether anybody ever bothered to tell him he had an online profile page.

She mentally shrugs. 

She can't be expected to remember everything.

"He said he was taking a break from dating," says Sonny. "Maybe he hasn't updated his profile?"

"Or maybe he's just not interested," says Anne brutally, shutting her laptop. "It's time to face the facts and move on."

Sonny looks crestfallen.

"Life is tough, but the tough get going," says Anne. "I think the best thing to do is arrange for you to go out with someone new. Nobody ever finds their match on the first date, anyway."

Sonny says, "No, I don't think-"

"I understand," says Anne, already shepherding him out the office.

Brian stands up. Sonny had forgotten he was there.

"Sonny, this is Brian," Anne says, giving Sonny a shove in Brian's direction, making him lose balance and stumble over his own feet. "Brian, meet Sonny. Now shoo! You kids get out of here, and have fun!"

She tries to push them out of her office foyer.

Surprise and shock make Sonny go easily.

Brian stares at her grimly.

"Get the fuck out of here," Anne says, waving him away. "Go on!"

She gives Brian a massive push, and slams the door after him, locking it.

 

* * *

 

Sonny is standing outside the  _Bliss! Jewish Detective Agency_ , next to the man that Anne had set him up with. The one that he told her he didn't want to go out with.

It's kind of awkward.

Sonny is the first to speak.

"That woman _\- she is -_ " Sonny tries to think of a polite word.

"She's the worst," says Brian.

 _"Yes!"_ says Sonny.  _"Yes! She really is."_

"- The worst." Brian smiles at Sonny. He has the most perfect glossy white teeth that Sonny has ever seen. And  _dimples._

Sonny stares. (Anybody  _would)._

Brian smiles wider.

Sonny can see that Brian is quite attractive. Sonny might even have  _liked_ to go out on a date with him, if he hadn't met Will first.

If only Will had liked him in return.Now all Sonny wanted to do was go home, lick his wounds, and watch  _"The Notebook". ("You are, and always have been, my dream")._

Brian is staring at him.

"So - um - I need to go to work now," says Sonny. 

"Do you want to share a cab?" says Brian.

"I actually brought my car," says Sonny. "So-"

"So, maybe you wouldn't mind giving me a lift?" he asks.

Sonny and Brian are both seated and buckled into Sonny's car, before Sonny thinks to ask Brian which way he's headed.

"Whichever way you're going is fine," says Brian, inspecting the inside of Sonny's car.

"But - how do you know where I'm going?"

"I don't," says Brian, smiling deeply. "It will be an adventure."

Sonny is aware he's staring again. He turns away quickly and starts the engine. 

When they're on the road, Brian says, "So, where  _are_ we going?"

Sonny throws his own words back at him:  _"It will be an adventure!"_

Brian laughs.

"Oh,  _I do hope so_ ," says Brian.

 

* * *

 

Teresa's new attorney, Saul Levinson, stops by Anne's dating agency.

"What do you want, farshtinkener?" says Anne.

"Aw, Annie," says Saul. "You never answer my calls. Do you wonder that I had to resort to this?"

"So you're dropping the law suit?"

"Not on your tuchis. I have to say I'm a little disappointed. I would have thought you would have been a bit more grateful after I won you that settlement from the hospital."

"You got your cut, worm," says Anne.

"I was hoping for a little more womanly appreciation, bubbala."

"In your dreams, Jew-fro," says Anne (who is still clinging to the belief that she did not spend six years watching  _Glee_  for nothing). "What do you think you're getting from Teresa Donovan? Because I know for a fact she hasn't got any money, and she sure as hell doesn't have a case."

"Teresa appreciates me," says Saul.

"Bet you haven't gotten past first base," Anne guesses shrewdly.

"She's a lady," says Saul.

"Ha!" Says Anne. "There's one born every minute. She's just stringing you along, _Short Serve_ , and when she gets what she wants, she'll drop your Jewish ass like a hot potato," says Anne.

"Yeah, well, You've got a Jewish ass, too," he retorts.

"Yeah, but on me it looks good," says Anne.

 

* * *

 

Sonny stops outside his coffee house and says, "Here we are."

"You work here?" 

"Actually, I own it," says Sonny. "But I have a business partner ... and investors." 

"What's the coffee like?" says Brian.

"It's the best," says Sonny. 

"Oh, really?" Brian smiles again.

_Don't invite him in, don't invite him in._

Sonny has to fight fiercely against his nature. He has always been a coffee giver. 

"Thank you for the lift, Sonny," says Brian.

"You're welcome," says Sonny. "It was nice meeting you."

They shake hands. Brian holds on to Sonny's for a little longer than necessary.

Sonny hurries back into his coffee house. The lunchtime rush was over a while ago, but he is anxious not to leave his team alone for too long whilst they're still so new at this.

It isn't until a few minutes later that he notices that Brian has followed him in and is studying the menu.

 

* * *

 

The Suited Man and Big and Burly show up at Anne's office, before Anne has time to give up and go home. _(It's been that kind of day)._

"Come back tomorrow," says Anne loudly.

"Come to meet our client, please," says the Suited Man, bowing.

Big and Burly stands over her. She stares at his third shirt button from the top for a full five seconds.

"Sure thing," says Anne. "Is he here?"

"Salem Inn," says the Suited Man.

Big and Burly takes her upper arm.

"Okay," she agrees. Anne picks up her laptop and puts it in her briefcase, one-handed.

Big and Burly says, "Here, you will need this."

He places something in the palm of her other hand.

She looks down.

It's a hair comb.

 

* * *

 

Anne is lead into one of _The Salem Inn's_ premium suites.

She waits in one of the arm chairs with her two silent companions.

There is noise and movement in another area of the suite and Anne turns towards the opening door. She stares with her mouth hanging open as a half-naked god comes strutting out of the bathroom, shirtless and dripping wet, drying his hair with a towel.

He says something in Japanese and the suited man hangs his head, contrite.

"I'm sorry," says the god, to Anne. "My agent told me you were coming later, or I would have been properly dressed to receive you." The god gives the suited man a pointed look.

Anne says, "Nah, Derna war but."

The god looks confused. 

"Don't worry about it," says Anne, remembering to close as well as open her mouth to speak. "Don't feel as if you have to dress for me. At all.  _Really_."

Anne's gaze drifts down to where the god's towel is hanging low on his hips. Very low. She makes a quick dirty wish.

Nothing happens, _dammit._

"Yusei," says the god. "Get our guest a drink whilst I change."

"Noooo!" Says Anne.

Three men stare at her.

"It's just, we have urgent business to discuss. Better get to it straight away, eh? No delays." Anne pats the couch next to her invitingly.

"It can wait a few-"

"I don't mind. Yusei doesn't mind. I'm sure Big and Burly doesn't care what you wear. _Sit_."

Big and Burly smirks.

"All the same, I think I will feel more comfortable dressed," says the god. As he walks away, Anne says a quick prayer for towel slippage. 

Nada. 

A minute later, when the god comes out again, he is dressed in pants and a t-shirt.

Anne looks at his face this time

"You're Paul Narita", she says, recognising him. "The Paul Narita - all-star pitcher and baseball champion," says Anne. "Mr Narita, I am such a fan."

"Thank you," says Paul.

Anne stares at his well-defined arm and shoulder. His pecs and biceps look rock-hard.

"This is the billion dollar arm?" says Anne. "Can I touch it?"

"Um, okay?" says Paul. 

Anne starts stroking his biceps, mesmerised. When it doesn't look like she's ever going to stop, Paul gestures to Big and Burly, who gently pries her hands off Paul's arm.

Paul moves out of reach. 

"So I assume my manager told you what I wanted from you?" says Paul.

"I am completely at your service," says Anne. "Day or night. Call me any time."

"You did understand that I wanted something - um - specific?"

Anne's brow knits and her mind goes to a few sexually kinky places in under a second.

"Specifically not-female?" clarifies Paul.

"Gay dudes," re-clarifies Big and Burly.

"Oh sure," says Anne. "I've got plenty of those."

"I'm free tomorrow night," says Paul. 

"Me too," says Anne.

"For the date," says Paul.

"Not a problem," says Anne. 

"With someone from your clientele," says Paul.

"Make sure he signs the non-disclosure agreement first," says Big and Burly.

Paul gives him a look.

"You don't want it out there to everyone that you're gay," says Big and Burly.

Paul says to Anne, "It is not commonly known amongst the circles I socialise in that I'm gay. Nobody from my team even knows. Only my agent and a few friends. People I can trust ... And now you."

Anne nods.

"I need to know if I can trust you to be discreet," says Paul.

"Because if you're not, we'll sue your ass, bankrupt your business and leave you destitute," says Big and Burly.

Anne says, "My lips are sealed."

After a minute she says, "Just unsealing them briefly, whilst I get more details about the date. When and where, that sort of thing?"

They arrange a time and place to meet. Mindful of his agent's instructions, she calls him "BamBam" in her notes, and refers to his date as "Pebbles". 

"Well, I think that's about it," says Anne, standing up. 

"Except for the most important thing," says Paul. 

"My fee?" Anne says hopefully. 

"Yusei will pay you," says Paul, waving it away. "I was thinking more along the lines of who you're going to match me with?"

Anne is silent. 

_Well, fuck._

 


	5. The Danish Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonny discovers the identity of Will's "danish guy"; Paul is interviewed for his dating profile; Sonny and Brian go out on a date; Anne's hand is forced; Brian takes Sonny back to his apartment; Saul realises that Theresa has been playing him for a fool; Sonny has second thoughts about being with Brian.

It is getting close to closing time for Sonny's café, and Brian is still there, eating a pastry and sipping an extra strong espresso. It's been almost two and a half hours, and Brian's cab still hasn't arrived. 

 

 _He_   _must use the world's worst taxi service._

 

Sonny goes over to his table and Brian smiles at him and puts down his fork.

 

“Can I get you something else?” says Sonny.

 

Brian says, “Join me? If you're not too busy?”

 

Sonny slides onto a seat, facing him from across the booth.

 

Brian says, “I'm interested.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“It's the answer to the question you were going to ask,” Brian says.

 

Sonny gives that some thought. “Maybe I was going to ask how you liked the coffee."

 

Brian smiles at him softly. “Were you?”

 

“No," says Sonny. "I was going to ask you for the name of your taxi service, so that I can make sure I never use them.  _Ever_.”

 

Brian laughs.

 

Sonny says, “Why are you still here?”

 

“Maybe I've always been a sucker for a hot pot of black coffee and a well-cooked danish,” says Brian. 

 

Sonny glances down at Brian's pastry. 

 

 _Sonny remembers_   _Will saying, “My granddad kept asking questions, and I told him some story. But the guy was just sitting there, the whole time, you know, watching and listening. Eating a danish. Bastard."_

 

Taken by surprise, Sonny says: " _You're the danish guy.”_

 

Brian looks confused. “Do you mean my nationality, because I'm not -”

 

“No, no,” says Sonny. “It has nothing to do with that. It was just -” 

 

He looks up at Brian and realises he can't tell him the story that Will told him. But now that he's made the connection, he can see that it fits. He can't imagine that Brian would ever appreciate being introduced as his date's “ _buddy_ ” from school.

 

Brian just seems so _out and proud._

 

Sonny says instead, “Sorry. Sometimes I just speak without thinking.”

 

“I hadn't noticed that about you,” says Brian, looking at him quizzically. “Why am I the danish guy?”

 

“It's nothing.  _Really_ ,” says Sonny, earnestly. He covers Brian's hand with his palm.

 

When he sees Brian staring at his hand, he is about to remove it, embarrassed, but Brian flips over his palm and links both of their hands together. They're a good fit.

 

Sonny feels tiny little butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

 

“Sonny,” asks Brian. “Will you go out with me?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

It is not long after Paul asks Anne who she is going to pair him with, that Anne realises she has just sent two of her agency's better prospects off on a date - with  _each other_. 

 

 _What had she been thinking? What if they hit it off? If she started pairing off all her clients_ for reals _, she wouldn't have any left._  

 

She reaches for her paperwork. If there is one thing that Anne has learnt over the years, it's that red tape is always the answer.

 

"I'll just get you to fill out this questionnaire," Anne says to Paul. "When you've done that, have it delivered back to the office and I'll correlate the answers against my database to find you your most compatible match."

 

She leans over to hand Paul the seven page questionnaire, but Paul's manager intercepts it. 

 

He says, "No hand-writing," and rips it up. 

 

Paul says, "We'll do it now. What did you want to know?”

 

Anne mutters and picks up a pen and notepad.

 

"What was that?" says Paul.

 

"I said, what are you looking for in a SLP?" Anne asks.

 

"SLP?"

 

"Suitable life partner. It's an industry term." That Anne made up. She has always been quite proud of it.

 

Paul thinks about the question. 

 

"I want someone intelligent, kind and caring," he says.

 

"He has to be really good looking and like sports," says Big and Burly. “No airheads.”

 

Paul says, "It would be nice if he liked sports, but he really doesn't have to be any better looking than I am."

 

Big and Burly rolls his eyes.

 

Paul continues, "I'd like someone who I can talk to, and who shares some of the same interests as me, but I'd want him to have his own interests, too."

 

“If he likes baseball and looking at pictures of naked men, that should take care of the first part," says Big and Burly.

 

Paul gives him an annoyed look.

 

Paul says, "I want somebody trustworthy and truthful. Someone who loves life, but is still a regular guy, you know?"

 

"Nobody from the entertainment industry,” interprets Big and Burly.

 

Paul says, "I grew up without a father, and whilst I had a great childhood, I've always dreamed of having the kind of relationship that my mother never had. I want a companion, a partner - an  _equal_. I want someone to share my life with -”

 

Paul looks over at Big and Burly, but for once, he is silent.

 

"- Most of all, I want someone  _I can rely on,”_ says Paul.

 

"Someone  _reliable_ ," says Anne. “Gotcha.”

 

“And no weirdos, gossips, drama queens, or gold diggers," adds Big and Burly.

 

“And Ms Milbauer," says Paul. "I'd like to see his profile tonight.” 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Fifteen minutes after taking Sonny out to _The Spot_ for their date, Brian realises that he has made a terrible miscalculation. He should have taken Sonny somewhere a lot more private.

 

As they are stopped for the umpteenth time to say hello to another of Sonny's "friends", Brian has to wonder how Sonny knows so many hot young gays. _The secret life of Sonny. Who knew?_

 

He's barely had time to flirt, when they are set upon by another of Sonny's friends wanting to say hello.

 

Without thinking, Brian says, "How do you know so many hot guys?" 

 

Sonny laughs so gleefully that Brian instantly knows that his baser suspicions were wrong and Sonny doesn't know any of these guys in a sexual context. _(Not that he would have judged. He is a great believer in sexual freedom.)_

 

"Tell me," says Brian, moving closer. His breath fans over Sonny's cheek.

 

"I met them at the University," says Sonny. 

 

Brian says, "I go to Uni. You don't see hot guys coming up to me every second."

 

Sonny says, "I'm sure you get your share."

 

Brian sees Sonny look at him appraisingly. He takes that as encouragement and moves a little closer. He puts his arms around Sonny's waist and looks down into his face. "Not that many. I'm always studying," he says. 

 

Sonny looks skeptical. 

 

"No - It's true," Brian says. "I study hard, so when I get a little time to myself, I play hard, too. I'm honest about what I want and if I see something that I like, I go after it. Is that such a bad thing?"

 

"No," says Sonny uncertainly. 

 

"Sonny I'm not a bully, and I'd never force anybody to do anything they didn't want." He touches Sonny's cheek tenderly.

 

"I didn't think that," says Sonny.

 

"I'm more of a believer in gentle persuasion," he says, moving in for a kiss. He presses his lips against Sonny's and Sonny's lips part. Brian's kiss is soft and sensual, and Sonny feels himself reacting to it, breathing into Brian's mouth and opening his mouth wider to let Brian in. Sonny moans and fists his shirt, trying to draw him closer. Brian rubs up against him, and their tongues tangle.

 

Someone wolf whistles and Sonny pulls away. 

 

"Don't mind him." Brian draws him back.

 

"Brian-" Sonny says.

 

Brian puts a finger over lips. "Don't spoil the moment. That was almost perfect."

 

"Almost perfect?" Sonny says.

 

Brian slides his hands from Sonny's waist until he's cupping Sonny's tush. He gives it a squeeze.

 

"Now it's perfect," says Brian.

 

 

* * *

 

  

Anne tries to distract Paul with lavish compliments and bicep rubbing, but when Paul and his agent threaten to go to another agency, Anne relents, and plays the only hand left to her.

 

She opens up her laptop and spends ten minutes pretending to go through suitable candidates from her online database.

 

“No, not that one,” she mumbles. “Maybe – “ She pretends to check her notes on Paul.

 

“Yes,” she affirms. “This is the one.” She spins her laptop and shows her choice to Paul.

 

"He's very good looking," says Paul, clearly interested. “What's his name?”

 

“Will Horton,” says Anne.

 

And, as much as it pains Anne to give such an incredible opportunity to a  _Horton_ , she becomes almost giddy from imagining the expression on Jennifer's face when she learns that Anne Milbauer's agency is now handling  _world-class, a-grade, primo, stud-muffin talent_ like the  _handsome_ ,  _rich_  and  _famous_  Paul Narita.

 

_Take that, J-Hag! You have the gall to call my business a failure? I have Paul Narita as a client!_

 

Paul's manager hands her a thick sheath of documents.

 

"What's this?" says Anne.

 

"It is the non-disclosure agreement he'll need to sign before he goes on the date," says Big and Burly.

 

_Dammit!_

 

 

* * *

 

 

The cab pulls up in front of a plain brick veneer apartment building.

 

Sonny gets out of the taxi uncertainly and stands on the sidewalk, as Brian pays off the cab driver.

 

“Is this your apartment?” Sonny says. “I'd just assumed we were going to another bar -”

 

“Sonny,” Brian rests his hand on Sonny's arm. “For now, all I'm offering is company, unless you want to take it further? I could, possibly,  _be persuaded_.”

 

“No, no,” says Sonny quickly. “Company is good.”

 

In Brian's apartment, Sonny looks around as Brian turns on all the lights and waves him towards the couch, telling him to make himself comfortable. It's an ordinary apartment, and Sonny can see Brian's medical text books sprawled across the dining table.

 

In a strange way, this sign of complete ordinariness is very reassuring.

 

Sonny relaxes.

 

He'd been worried for nothing.

 

Brian brings him a glass of wine, and settles on the couch facing him, one arm stretched across the back of the sofa behind Sonny's head.

 

Sonny takes a sip of red wine.

 

In his peripheral vision, Sonny sees the muscles in Brian's arm move, and almost instantly, the smooth sultry strains of Jazz saxophone start playing in the background.

 

* * *

 

 

Theresa is in a towering rage.

 

Apparently Anne had told Saul that she was just cosying up to him so that he'd take her case  _pro bono -_  and that Theresa intended to cut him loose as soon as he'd won her case.

 

Saul had promptly come to her apartment, flowers in hand, trying to get into her pants - and she'd had to slap him down.

 

Theresa only slept with  _hot guys_.

 

Saul had told her that he was dropping her, and her case.

 

"You can't do that," Theresa had screeched. "It's against the rules of  _The Bar Club_."

 

Saul had snorted.

 

"It's  _malpractice_ ," she'd said.

 

"Gear up and find yourself another lawyer,  _Toots_ ," Saul had said. "Consider yourself dumped."

 

As he left her apartment, Theresa had shouted after him:  _"I don't need you, anyway, you hack! Good riddance, Loser."_

 

Theresa was screwed. She had no money, no job, no lawyer, and her rent was due in a week.

 

_And it was all Anne's fault._

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I'm really, really sorry,” Sonny apologises. "The vibrating couch just took me by surprise."

 

Brian strips off his wine splattered shirt, and Sonny is treated to a view of Brian's perfectly muscled sun-browned torso. His mouth goes dry and he licks his lower lip.

 

“I'll pay for the dry-cleaning bill,” says Sonny, but his voice comes out sounding a little bit choked.

 

Brian says, “Don't be an idiot. Tell me that you liked the wine, at least." 

 

“I liked the wine.  _A lot_ ,” says Sonny. “The wine was great.” 

 

As Brian soaks his shirt in the kitchen basin, Sonny is mesmerised by the play of muscles in his back and shoulders as he rubs the stain with soap and water.

 

Sonny has a bit of  _a thing_  for nicely muscled  _backs_. And  _shoulders_.

 

A  _sexual_  thing. Sonny's hands twitch.

 

“I'm glad you liked the wine," says Brian, returning back to the couch to sit with Sonny. “Even though I realise it will probably be difficult for you to look at someone you've spit wine on in the same way ever again.”

 

“I think it's worse for the _spitter_ , than it is for the _spittee_ ,” says Sonny. “You know, because of the  _guilt_.”

 

“Maybe there's more  _guilt_  being the spitter,” says Brian. “But being the spittee is definitely  _wetter_. Even now, I can still feel the wine dribbling down my chest.” Brian runs his fingers down his naked chest to emphasise the point.

 

Sonny adjusts his position on the couch and crosses over his legs to make his recent -inflation- a little more comfortable and less noticeable.

 

“I'm really sorry,” Sonny says again.

 

“Forget about it,” says Brian casually, sitting back on the couch. “It was my own damned fault. I suppose I was trying too hard?” He looks at Sonny. “I just  _really_  like you.”

 

Sonny feels a pang.

 

“Brian,” says Sonny. “I do like you. I'm just in a strange place right now.” He puts his hands on Brian's shoulders, comfortingly.

 

_Brian's naked shoulders._

 

Of their own accord, Sonny's hands just slide across the breadth of his shoulders. Sonny jerks his hands away.

 

“Sonny?” Brian says. He reaches for Sonny's face and tips his chin until he can see into his eyes.

 

Sonny stares back at him, wide eyed.

 

 _"Oh, Sonny."_ Brian reaches for him and they meet somewhere in the middle, in a tangle of tongues, teeth and limbs. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

After Big and Burly drops Anne back at her office, there is someone there waiting for her.

 

"I'm not going away until you see me," says Will.

 

"Actually," says Anne. "You're just the person I needed to see, _Will_ _Horton_."

 

She waits for his shock and surprise that she has discovered his _true identity._  

 

"Cool," says Will, entering her office ahead of her.

 

 

* * *

 

  

Sonny is laying on Brian's bed, being kissed by Brian. He can feel a lick of cool air brush against his bare stomach where it's exposed by the opened buttons of his shirt, and the heavy warmth of Brian's body where he is half-laying on top of him, his denim-clad leg wedged between both of Sonny's.

 

There are goosebumps on the surface of Sonny's skin, and a low heat simmering inside him, making him ache with lust. It is not an entirely unpleasant feeling.

 

He twitches as Brian's hand brushes over his erection and he fights his instinctive desire to arch against Brian's hand. Sonny shivers as Brian's fingers, unfastening the buttons of his jeans, slide against the sensitive skin there.

 

It's much too much.

 

"I'm sorry," says Sonny, sitting upright. "I'm sorry, I can't do this. I am  _so sorry_."

 

_This is wrong._

 

He starts to get off the bed, but Brian captures one of his hands.

 

"Wait," he says. "Please? Talk to me." He persuades Sonny to sit next to him on the bed again.

 

"I thought I could do this," says Sonny, not looking into his eyes, "But I  _can't_."

 

Brian waits. 

 

"There's someone I like, but he doesn't feel the same way about me," says Sonny. "I came up to your apartment because it felt good being with someone who wanted to be with me, but I never took  _your_  feelings into account."

 

Sonny hangs his head.

 

"I'm so sorry. I was just - I would have just been _using you_   _for sex_."

 

Brian is quiet for a beat. 

 

"Ah, Sonny?" he says. "I really,  _really_  don't have any problem with that.”

 


	6. The Long Goodnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explicit rating for this chapter.  
> Anne tries to set Will up with a new client; Kate speculates about the identity of Will's potential new suitor; Sonny and Brian get together; Kate and Will scheme; Brian likes to talk and Sonny is embarrassed.

* * *

 

 

In a tone laced with nuance and meaning, Anne says, "Have a seat, _Mr. Horton_."

 

Will sits gingerly on the edge of the seat. It wobbles. He braces the wobbly leg with his ankle.

 

"I suppose you know why I called you here today," says Anne. 

 

"Um," said Will. "I came here about Sonny."

 

"Client confidentiality forbids me from talking about the other clients in my care," says Anne blithely. "However, if you are looking for another match-up-"

 

"That's just it," interrupts Will. "I don't want to see anyone else. I want Sonny."

 

"I'm afraid that won't be possible until the customary 14 day re-dating period has elapsed," says Anne. "But I have organised an excellent new introduction in the interim-"

 

"Wait, what do you mean by ' _re-dating' period?"_  says Will.

 

"I assume you read the orientation booklet in your welcome pack when you joined?"

 

"There was a welcome pack?" says Will.

 

"The welcome pack that detailed the rules of our service, and gave instructions for setting up your online profile," says Anne.

 

"I have an online profile?" says Will.

 

Anne sighs. "All of our new arranged dates have a compulsory cooling-off period. During this time, clients are encouraged to broaden their dating pool so they have a better chance of finding their true _SLP_. We believe that getting out there and seeing what's available, is the best way of finding a suitable match."

 

"Um, wait," says Will, latching immediately to the part of most interest to him. "Are you saying that I can't see Sonny for _another week?"_

 

"Fortunately for you, I have set you up with someone new whilst you wait. You won't be disappointed - _hubba hubba -_   _if you know what I mean_." Anne whistles and fans herself, collapsing back in her chair.

 

"You'll be meeting him in the private dining room of the Salem Inn, a night from now," she adds, brusquely. 

 

"Wait, what?" says Will. "I never agreed-"

 

"Here's your information packet," says Anne, shoving a thick envelope into his arms. She stands. "Make sure you have these documents signed and returned to me before 5pm tomorrow." 

 

"But what about Sonny?" says Will.

 

"He was my next choice to date _Mr. Celebrity Hard-Bod_ ," says Anne. "But I haven't been able to get in touch with him."

 

"But _I_ want to date Sonny, not some other random dude," says Will.

 

"I don't think you fully _appreciate_ what I'm offering," says Anne, exasperated. "This one is a _game-changer_. Handsome, rich, famous, intelligent - and built like a _Master of the Universe_. If I was even remotely his type, I'd be having a crack at him. _Ha! I still might."_

 

"I told you I want Sonny," says Will mutinously. "You were paid for my match-up with Sonny, but I never even had a proper date with him!"

 

"You met in a restaurant and exchanged pleasantries," says Anne. "That's a date."

 

"I was working there and I took his coffee order," says Will.

 

"Sorry, no refunds," says Anne.

 

"I don't want a refund, I want _a do-over."_

 

"Read your service contract," says Anne. "In particular the _no-fault_ clause that says the agency is not at fault."

 

"What kind of matchmaker are you?' says Will. "You're supposed to be helping people to get together, not keeping them apart!"

 

"I am only acting in accordance with the rules and regulations of the service contract - the contract that _you agreed to, when you signed it_."

 

"I only read it briefly," says Will. "My grandmother looked over most of it, before I signed it."

 

Anne shrugs. "There you go."

 

Will says, "I don't think that she is going to be happy about this _at all."_

 

Anne is unconcerned. After all, it was Kate who accepted the date and chose the venue without telling her grandson. Anne is blameless. 

 

_Blameless!_

 

"Her lawyers aren't going to be happy, either," adds Will darkly. 

 

* * *

 

Will tells his grandma Kate about his run-in with Anne. 

 

"I mean, there has to be something we can get her on, right?" says Will. 

 

Frustratingly, Grandma Kate doesn't seem to be paying attention to the problem.

 

"So, Anne said this guy was a celebrity? Did she give any clue about what field he worked in?"

 

"No," says Will. "But she handed me a non-disclosure agreement to sign, so I assume she isn't allowed to tell me unless I sign it."

 

" _Interesting_ ," says Kate. "And what were the words she used to describe him, _exactly?"_

 

" _"Game changer"_ ," says Will. 

 

"Maybe he's in politics?"

 

"She said _"Master of the Universe"_ , too," says Will.

 

"Maybe someone in finance - or a captain of industry?" she suggests.

 

"I was thinking more along the lines of  _He-Man_ , _Skeletor,_ " says Will. _"You know."_

 

Kate looks at him blankly. 

 

" _'By the Power of Greyskull," says Will. "I have the Power!''_ "

 

Silence. 

 

"She also called him _Mr. Celebrity Hard-bod_ ," Will adds, helpfully.

 

"Well," says Kate, on firmer ground. "I think we can rule him out as a politician, then. Almost everybody in politics looks like crap. He sounds more like a body-builder, or an athlete. These days even an actor would fit the bill. It doesn't sound as if he is out to the public yet, either. You could share your personal experiences. It could be good for you."

 

Will shrugs. 

 

Kate takes one of his hands in hers. "Will, _honey_ , are you sure that you really want to say 'no' to this date?"

  

* * *

 

Brian had expected sex with Sonny to be quick and fun, after he'd gotten past Sonny's initial embarrassed awkwardness  -  but Sonny is a revelation in the bedroom. He rides Brian until he is breathless with _want_ , and then toys with him, slowing to a crawl until Brian is bucking and begging beneath him and pleading with Sonny to finish him off. 

 

Sonny laughs - _fiendishly_ \- and tangles his fingers in the spray of dark hairs on Brian's chest, leisurely rolling his hips, and squeezing and contracting around Brian's cock before settling back against Brian's thighs with a springy bounce that makes Brian's spine arch up off the bed, and his head roll back. 

 

A litany of filthy swearing follows, rolling off Brian's tongue.

 

Sonny laughs and starts up again, rhythmically sliding up and down Brian's cock until Brian is incoherent with lust. Before long Sonny is bouncing up and down - and Brian is trying desperately to hold on, clutching frantically at the headboard of the bed, trying not to come apart. He is almost undone by the sounds of Sonny's winnowing breaths, but when the springs of the bed squeal in furious protest, Brian has to wonder whether the furniture is going to come apart before he ever gets the chance to.

 

 _"Fuck,fuck,fuck,fuck,fuck,"_ screams Brian.

 

Sonny bounces faster.

 

* * *

 

“Sweetheart,” says Kate. “I really don't know what you expect me to do.”

 

“Call your lawyers, find a loophole in the contract. Something,” says Will. “Or she'll do it to Sonny next. “

 

“Do what? Find him a date? That's what she's being paid for,” says Kate.

 

“No,” says Will. “People are paying her to find them someone to love, but all she cares about is the money she makes from setting her clients up on dates. She doesn't care about keeping them together, because as soon as she's made a match, she's just lost two clients.”

 

"I have always thought that was a strange dichotomy of the dating business,” says Kate. “But why do you assume that she's doing it deliberately? Maybe her clients want a lot of partners to choose from. Maybe that's why their relatives signed them up to the agency in the first place. Have you ever thought that maybe it would be good for a young man to have fun, flirt, and meet people, _instead of fixating on the first person that he met?”_

 

A horrible thought occurs to Will.

 

"We have to stop her," says Will. "She's going to set up Sonny with this new guy next. What if Sonny likes him better than me?”

 

Kate sighs. 

 

"There's no reason to assume that she's going to set up Sonny with this celebrity person,” says Kate.

 

"She told me that Sonny was her next choice," said Will.

 

"You never told me that," says Kate.

 

"I was getting around to it," he says.

 

"You know I can't stop her from matching up any of her other clients," says Kate. "Don't you?"

 

"I suppose," says Will, glumly. "But I just thought - Never mind."

 

"You thought that I had a devious sneaky mind that could come up with an underhanded solution?" says Kate. 

 

Will grins and nods.

 

"I am touched by your faith in me," says Kate. "But you don't need my help. Think laterally. Ask yourself: What can _I_  do, to prevent Anne from setting up Sonny with this new guy?”

 

It only takes Will a minute to figure it out.

 

"You want me to accept the date," he says. 

 

"She can't set him up with Sonny if she's already set him up with _you,"_ reasons Kate. "And if worse comes to worst, it's a chance for you to get to know your competition. Find out his strengths and weaknesses. Know thy enemy."

 

"I really do have to do it, don't I?" says Will. 

 

"I would, if I were you," says Kate. 

 

"I'll drop off the signed agreement to her tomorrow," he says. 

 

Kate smiles, pleased.

 

* * *

 

Lying in bed next to Sonny, Brian sees his mobile phone vibrating and flashing on the floor.

 

He is tempted not to answer it, but what if it is an _emergency_?

 

The phone stops flashing. Then a moment later it starts up again. 

 

Careful not to wake Sonny, Brian picks up his phone and goes into the other room. 

 

"Yes?" he says. 

 

Anne says, "Is Sonny with you? He's not answering his phone."

 

"What do you want with him?" says Brian.

 

"It's private," says Anne. "Just put him on the phone."

 

"He can't come right now," says Brian. "He's indisposed."

 

"You're a pig," says Anne. "Tell him to call me tomorrow morning, first thing."

 

"Sure thing," says Brian insincerely, hanging up.

  

* * *

 

Brian rests his hand on Sonny's sleep-warmed hip, pressing against him. Sonny murmurs and rolls on his side and Brian moves into the space; rolling with him and spooning against his back.

 

He is not about to wake Sonny and brashly demand sex. After all, it is only polite to allow Sonny to get some sleep, and Brian is a gentleman.

 

Most of the time.

 

He glides his hand along Sonny's thigh, and fists the bed sheet in his hand, slowly guiding and dragging it away until they are both naked to the cool night air.

 

Sonny murmurs a little.

 

Brian kisses the sensitive flesh of Sonny's collarbone; sucking, squeezing and using his teeth until a brash red mark appears against Sonny's pale skin.

 

"Brian-," Sonny says, lifting his head. Then, "When did it suddenly get so cold?"

 

"Someone opened a window during the night," says Brian, as Sonny turns over in bed to face him.

 

Brian draws him into a cuddle and strokes his back. He nuzzles his face into Sonny's neck, and tangles their legs together. Sonny's foot slides against Brian's calf as he presses closer.

 

Sonny says, "I think the blanket must have fallen off during the night."

 

Brian says, "I can keep you warm," and then he proceeds to show Sonny exactly how.

 

* * *

 

 

Later, Sonny says, "Next time, do you think we could try it on the vibrating couch?"

 

 

* * *

 

 

Brian is spooning against Sonny's back and stroking Sonny's thigh, when _he_ says to Sonny, “You're insatiable.”

 

"What?" says Sonny.  _Because, really, who is calling who, what, now?_

 

The first time Brian said it, Sonny let it go. After all, a man cannot be held accountable for all of the crazy things that he says during sex (or be expected to speak at all). But afterwards, Sonny realises the terrible truth.

 

_Brian is a sex talker._

 

"The way you kept going and going, and wanting more. I thought I would never be able to keep up," says Brian, as they lie curled up against each other, exhausted and sated in a post-sex stupor. 

 

 _What?_   Sonny never did _that_.

  

"I never expected to meet somebody who loves sex as much as I do," says Brian. "But, _fuck, Sonny-"_ Brian buries his face in Sonny's neck and breathes him in. " _You're insatiable."_

 

"That's not true," says Sonny. "I'm very _satiable_."

 

Brian laughs, reaching over and palming Sonny's cock in his hand. 

 

"Of course you are," he whispers intimately in Sonny's ear. 

 

"I _am_ ," insists Sonny, at this point not quite sure what he is admitting to. 

 

Brian strokes Sonny's cock, and Sonny automatically tilts his hips to give him better access.

 

Brian murmurs appreciatively. " _My little pocket rocket."_

 

_The fuck?_

 

 _"Brian-,"_  Sonny says, but Brian's hand suddenly finds it's rhythm, and Sonny is left momentarily speechless from the increased friction of Brian's hand fluffing his cock.

 

 _"Your cock is magic,"_ murmursBrian. He buries his head in Sonny's shoulder, and Sonny hears a muffled mutter of  _"Fuck,fuck,fuck"._

 

Brian's hand works Sonny's cock.  _Up and down. Down and up. Building the pressure._

 

Sonny's universe contracts to the feel of one man's hand on his penis. Nothing else matters. He writhes with pleasure. His head rolls back.

 

"Say my name again," says Brian. "I want you to say my name."

 

 _"Brian,"_ says Sonny.

 

Then, _"Oh God!"_ as Brian's thumb flicks across the tip of his penis.

 

"You like that?" says Brian. He squeezes his fingers and gives his wrist a twist. Sonny's back arches off the bed.

 

 _"Oh God!"_ Sonny screams. _"Fuck, Brian, Fuck!"_

 

Sonny starts to tremble. Brian pumps Sonny's cock faster, staring at Sonny.

 

 _"Brian,"_ Sonny pants. _"Oh God, Brian, Please."_

 

Brian kneels between Sonny's legs and wraps a second hand around Sonny's cock, sheathing it between his palms. Sonny arches under him, pushing at him, trying to fuck Brian's hands. Brian squeezes and drags his palms down the length of Sonny's cock, his bottom hand taking the place of the top one, palm over palm, skin against skin, endlessly teasing, pulling and squeezing.

 

_It's too much._

 

_It's not enough._

 

Sonny whimpers.

 

"It's all right," says Brian. "I've got you."

 

A bead of moisture leaks from the end of Sonny's cock.

 

 _"Come,"_  says Brian. 

 

 _ _"_ Oh God!" _Sonny screams, spilling over.

 

* * *

 

In the early hours of the morning, Brian rolls over and cups Sonny's ass, giving it a gentle squeeze.

 

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

 

"I'm fine," says Sonny, shyly.  _Exhausted_.

 

"Excellent," says Brian, rolling Sonny over on his back.

 

_"Brian-"_

 

Brian captures his lips in a long lazy kiss. Sonny kisses back, melting into the kiss. Brian hums against his lips.

 

He breaks off the kiss and smiles at Sonny. "Hey," he says. 

 

"Hey." Sonny smiles back. 

 

Brian kisses him again. After a long while, their lips peel apart and Brian's lips move down Sonny's torso, planting soft kisses down his chest and stomach.

 

"Wait," says Sonny uncertainly, planting his hands against Brian's chest and holding him off.

 

"What is it?" says Brian.

 

"Are you sure- I mean, _I'm not sure_ that we should be doing this again," says Sonny. This would make it the fourth time.

 

"Are you sore?" says Brian, his voice turning huskier, more intimate. He squeezes Sonny's bottom again. 

 

"What? _No_ ," says Sonny.  _Maybe just a little bit._

 

"I could take a look," says Brian, moving between Sonny's thighs. 

 

"No," says Sonny, face flaming. "I'm fine."

 

"You don't have to be embarrassed," says Brian, reassuringly. "I'm _pre-med_."

 

There's an awkward minute where Sonny tries to articulate why he doesn't want Brian to cursorily look at the same areas that Brian intimately caressed with his hands and mouth a few hours previously. And somehow, Sonny ends up with his legs folded over his head and his ass in the air, anyway, as Brian examines him. Sonny squirms and protests that he is fine. He feels the pads of Brian's fingers lightly scrape across the sensitive skin of his anus, and he jerks in response. 

 

"Sorry," says Brian. "It's a little red, but there doesn't seem to be any bruising or broken skin. Are you feeling any pain or discomfort right now?"

 

"I'm feeling a lot of discomfort, right now," says Sonny, rolling over and wriggling out of Brian's grasp. "And you're causing it. _I said I was fine."_

 

"Sonny," says Brian, fondly. "After what we did last night, you don't need to be embarrassed. I'd understand if you wanted a little - _rest_."

 

He smiles smugly.

 

"I'm fine," says Sonny, his face flaming. "I told you I was fine. I could have sex right now, no problem."

 

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Sonny realises that they probably should have been worded a whole lot differently. 

 

"I'm pleased to hear it," says Brian.

 

"Brian-" says Sonny, uncertainly. "I have to go to work soon."

 

"When does the café open?" asks Brian. "Seven?"

 

Sonny nods. 

 

"We have plenty of time," says Brian, capturing Sonny's lips in a gentle kiss.

 

"Brian-" says Sonny. 

 

Brian says, "Ssh, it's all right. I won't make you late for work." He kisses Sonny again.

 

Sonny clings to his shoulders, deepening the kiss, and Brian lowers him onto the mattress. 

 

"Brian-" says Sonny. 

 

"Hmm?" says Brian, between kisses. 

 

"Nothing," says Sonny. "Just-  _Brian_."

 

"I love it when you say my name," says Brian.

 


	7. Interludes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonny meets Brian's room-mate Neil; Theresa tries to find a new solution to her financial problems; Sonny learns that his parents are having marital difficulties; Sonny tries to put some distance between himself and Brian; Brian's mother visits Sonny's coffee house; Anne gives Brian dating advice; Will waits for Paul.

 

Sonny is quietly slinking out of Brian's bedroom in his trousers and socks, with his shirt scrunched over his arm and his shoes in his hands. He is looking for his mobile phone - he thinks it fell somewhere near the couch - when he realises that he is not alone, and that there is a blonde man sitting at the kitchen bench, eating a bowl of cereal.

 

It isn't Brian.

 

"Hi," says the stranger, nodding at Sonny, his mouth full of cereal.

 

Sonny stares at him.

 

"Room-mate," clarifies the man. "I'm Neil."

 

"Oh - um - hi. _Sonny_ ," he says, identifying himself. "I don't suppose you've seen my-"

 

"On the table over there," Neil says, pointing. Sonny sees the phone and slips it in his pocket.

 

"Thanks," says Sonny. "I didn't realise that Brian had a room-mate."

 

"Sometimes I don't think that Brian remembers he does either," says Neil. He doesn't meet Sonny's eyes. 

 

_Room mate._

 

Sonny remembers some of the noises they made last night. All the sex _talking_. He spares a quick guilty look at the vibrating couch and remembers what he and Brian did there. His face flames red and he avoids Neil's gaze. He hastily buttons himself into his shirt, and slips on his shoes.

 

"Are you sticking around for breakfast?" Neil asks.

 

"Um - no thanks, I can't. I have to go to work," says Sonny, not meeting Neil's eyes.

 

"Okay," says Neil, spooning another mouthful of cereal into his mouth.

 

"Bye," says Sonny, slipping out the door.

 

"See you around," says Neil. 

 

* * *

 

It's Friday morning, and Theresa is a month behind on her rent.

 

She has been dodging the building supervisor ever since their last nasty run-in. She'd had to beg - _beg_ \- the woman to give her another week, and was only successful by bribing her with the coffee machine in her apartment. 

 

So here Theresa is, with no job, no money, the rent past due, and no coffee machine. She wouldn't be in this predicament if it wasn't for Anne's betrayal, or for that weasel lawyer Saul Levinson, who lead her on with false promises of a settlement, and left her high and dry.

 

"Buck up, little camper," she says, looking at herself in the mirror. She tilts her chin decisively and holds her head up high. "It's time to step up, and stand on your own two feet. There has to be a man, somewhere, who will pay your bills and shower you with presents. You just have to get to work and find him."

 

_(And she knows just where to look.)_

 

* * *

 

In the morning, Sonny signs for his daily order of bagels, breads and desserts from the bakery, and forgets to give the delivery man his pen back. He also makes three mistakes with his customer's coffee orders, and spills a cup of cappuccino all over the counter, before he finally gives up and asks his coffee barista Terry if he can run the coffee house for the next few hours.

 

Sonny goes into the back office, trying to catch up on some mundane ordering, but he is just so so tired, and his head slumps as the figures blur and dance in front of his eyes. 

 

He gives up on the paperwork and sinks into the couch. Maybe if he could just sleep for a little while?

 

His phone buzzes and he pulls it out of his pocket. His mother has tried to call him three times.

 

He calls her back. "Mom?"

 

"Sonny!" Adrienne says. "I am so sorry for calling you at work."

 

"What is it?" says Sonny. "What's wrong? You sound different."

  

"Nothing," says Adrienne.

 

"Mom?" says Sonny.

 

"Your Dad and I have been having some problems. Nothing major. I just want to see you," says Adrienne. "I want to see how you're doing, and find out how things with the agency have been working out."

 

"Things are fine with me, Mom. But what's up with you and Dad?" says Sonny.

 

"I can't really talk about it, I'm at Kayla's right now. But can you come to dinner at your Uncle Victor's tonight?"

 

"I'll be there after work," says Sonny.

 

"Thanks, Honey. Love you." She hangs up.

 

Sonny notices that he has one more message. It's from Anne.

 

He tries to stifle a yawn. The need for sleep starts to catch up to him again, and this time he leaves the message unanswered, as he turns off the phone and rolls over to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Anne can't quite believe that Theresa is back at her agency, asking for a freebie.

 

"You want me to set you up on a date? I thought you said that dating agencies were for - _quote, unquote_ \- _sad sorry losers who couldn't get a date any other way'_ ," says Anne.

 

"I don't think I ever said _that_ ," says Theresa. Although, to be perfectly honest, it did sound like her.

 

"Yes. Yes, you did," said Anne. "In fact, I distinctly remember that you said it in _exactly_ those words - to a _client_."

 

Theresa was genuinely surprised that Anne was making this so _so_ _difficult_. Anne should be champing at the bit for the chance to be part of Theresa's inner circle again. It's not as if Anne was going to meet nearly half as many hot guys without Theresa around. 

 

Theresa says, "He was a loser. You didn't want to represent someone like that."

 

 _"He had mon-ey,"_ says Anne. "I wanted his _mon-ey,_ and you deprived me of it."

 

"Well this is your chance to get it back," says Theresa. "Introduce me to some rich, hot guy, and I'll give you back 10% of any money or gifts I earn from the relationship, for, lets say, the first three months. I'll also go 50-50 on the introduction fee."

 

Anne snorts. "I already get 100% of the introduction fee from all my clients. No exception. You want in, you need to pony up."

 

"But I am exactly what your what your agency _needs_ ," says Theresa.

 

"And what's that exactly?" says Anne, contemplating her stable of completely gay male clientele.

 

"You know," says Theresa. " _Someone hot_."

 

"I'll tell you what," Anne says. "I'll consider taking you on as a client, if you bring back the coffee machine." _Sucker._

 

 _"I can't,"_ says Theresa.

 

'"Then _I can't,"_ says Anne.

 

Theresa says, "What about our friendship, what about that?"

 

"What about you trying to sue me last week," says Anne. "What about that?" Anne opens the door to the corridor. "Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out."

 

"You are a sad, bitter woman," says Theresa, looking her in the eyes, then lifting her head up high and stalking out. "And you'll always be a loser."

 

"I want my coffee machine back!" Anne yells down the corridor at her departing back. 

 

* * *

 

Sonny wakes to Brian's hand smoothing his cheek. Or he may still be sleeping. Either way, Brian says, "I'm sorry I missed you this morning."

 

Sonny opens his eyes, and the time is - now - and he is laying on his office couch, with Brian perched on the edge of it, watching him.

 

"Hey," says Brian, smiling.

 

"Brian." Sonny sits up, flustered.

 

"Is everything all right?" asks Brian. "You left this morning without saying goodbye."

 

"No, It's - um - fine," says Sonny.

 

"Was it Neil. Did he scare you off?"

 

"No, he was okay," says Sonny. "When did he - I mean - I didn't know you had a room mate."

 

"He's just a friend," says Brian. "There's nothing more going on between us."

 

"Yeah, um. Ok," says Sonny. He straightens his shirt and pats down his sleep hair.

 

Brian sits beside him on the couch.

 

"Last night was pretty amazing," Brian says. "Don't you think?"

 

'Um, yeah," says Sonny awkwardly, staring at his own knees. 

 

"Didn't you like it?"

 

"I did. I mean - it was - really good," says Sonny. Brian stretches out his arm out on the couch, behind Sonny's head.

 

Sonny says, "I just don't think we should do - it - again."

 

"You don't want to?" says Brian, softly caressing Sonny's cheek with his other hand, trying to get him to look at him. "Sonny, you have to know I wasn't faking it, or pretending anything I didn't feel. I wouldn't do that."

 

"I don't think that," says Sonny, glancing at him quickly. He can't hold Brian's gaze and it drops down again. 

 

"I also thought it was mutual last night, between you and me," Brian continues. "I thought you were enjoying yourself."

 

" _I was,_ " says Sonny. "Maybe - maybe a bit _too much_."

 

"A bit too much, huh?" Brian smiles and strokes Sonny's cheek again. He tries to draw Sonny into his lap but Sonny puts his hand on Brian's chest, holding him back.

 

"We've only known each other a day," says Sonny. "I thought, I thought last night was meant to be a one-off."

 

"Does it have to be?" says Brian.

 

"I just - wasn't expecting to see you again."

 

"Is that a bad thing?" says Brian. "I like you Sonny."

 

"I like you too," says Sonny. "But I've only known you since yesterday."

 

"If there's anything you want to know about me, you can just ask me, and I'll tell you."

 

"I know. I mean - I _assumed_ that," says Sonny. "It's just that sex - _sex complicates things_. It's like there's that rush, and then that instant sense of intimacy from having done - _it._ It can be confusing, coming all at once. I need time to process it."

 

"Sonny, that's completely okay," says Brian.

 

Sonny smiles at him, relieved.

 

"How about we make a date for tomorrow night instead?" Brian says.

 

* * *

 

Theresa knows that Anne usually takes two hour lunch breaks.

 

When Theresa was working for the _Bliss! Jewish Dating Agency_ , she used to go out shopping during that time, timing her excursions to be back minutes before Anne returned. Anne had very few rules about working there, but one of them was that Theresa had to show up and answer the phones. So during her shopping sprees Theresa always made sure to avoid Anne's favourite lunchtime haunts: _The_ _Brady Pub_ , _Tommy's Wine Bar & Grill, _and _Romeo's Bar_. (Basically any place that dispensed alcohol).

 

She opens Anne's office with her spare key and walks into Anne's office, looking for files. She tries the filing cabinet first, but all she finds are old closed cases kept from the previous owner, when the business was actually successful. She gives up and tries Anne's desk next.

 

The top drawer is more promising and there are five manilla folders there. The thickest, labelled "Walter Moss", she soon discards with a shiver after seeing his playful profile pics. _Who would have thought someone so old would have so much hair -there- of all places?_

 

She quickly becomes discouraged, flicking through _Sonny_ after _Brian_ after _Will_ and discarding them because they are all Gay, Gay, Gay. The one called "Will" has each instance of his last name scribbled out in black texta marker in every place it appears, and an extra notation, "Horton spy!", scrawled on the inside cover.

 

The most interesting file, simply called "BamBam" has love hearts, bulging biceps and dollar signs scribbled all over it, with a handwritten list of requirements inside. Theresa skims through it; reliable, partner to share my life with, _boring, blah blah blah._

 

She turns over the page. No gold diggers, weirdos, or stalkers. Hey Bingo. Two out of three ain't bad. Theresa finds no picture or other profile information inside it, only an email address to "Agentextraordinaire@ewemail.com".

 

Theresa moves on to Anne's laptop and checks her emails. She ignores every one that has Will, Sonny or Brian on it, and finds one to agentextraordinaire, confirming the date at 8pm tonight at the private dining room of the Salem Inn.

 

Keen, Theresa thinks, to get a dining room in a hotel. Clearly rich. Hoping to get lucky tonight.

 

She takes note of the address. She goes through the rest of Anne's emails, and finds only one recent email in her sent folder to a female, and that is _kateroberts@ewecloud.com._ It confirms the date for 8pm at a private room in the Salem Inn.

 

 _Bingo_.

 

Theresa sends Kate a new email, changing the time to 8pm at _Chez Rouge_.

 

She puts back all the files where she found them, locks the doors again and leaves.

 

* * *

 

"The re-dating what?" says Brian. Sonny is saying the words, but they just don't make any sense. 

 

"There is a seven day re-dating period," explains Sonny. "It's there for you, just as much as it is for me. It's so you can evaluate the way that you feel about how the date went, without pressure, for up to a week afterwards. And, if either of us wants to see the other person again after the re-dating period, we leave their name on our dating list, and we can request a second date through the email links on our profile."

 

"You want to do this?" asks Brian slowly.

 

Sonny nods.

 

Somehow, at some point, Brian realises that he has bungled it with Sonny. He is not sure exactly how; their night together was perfect, he is completely sure of that. It was beyond perfect. It was bliss. 

 

But now there's this.

 

Maybe he'd made the mistake of coming on too strong. He would have called Sonny's mobile instead, but he didn't have the number, and besides, he'd actually wanted to see Sonny again, to see Sonny smile at him, and hear him say his name.

 

"I understand," says Brian. They leave the office and Sonny puts on his serving apron.

 

Brian leans forward a little and Sonny puts a warning hand on his chest. "Brian-" he says.

 

"I know - a week," says Brian and starts walking away.

 

* * *

 

"Why are we going here again, Ellen?" says Esther Levinson. " _Finkelstein's_ is closer, and it's got an excellent dessert menu." She looks at the coffee house's menu again. "All these modern desserts. Red Velvet Cupcake, Orange Poppyseed Cake. Tiramisu. What's that when it's at home?" She puts her glasses back in her handbag.

 

"I think it's some kind of coffee cake," says Ellen, looking around the café with interest.

 

"Oh, _coffee_ ," says Esther. "What I wouldn't give for a good _blintz_ right now."

 

"I just thought we could try somewhere new for a change," says Ellen. "We always go to _Finklestein's_."

 

Esther doesn't look impressed. She shares a glance with Valda.

 

Valda's says suddenly, "Ellen, isn't that your boy, Brian, over there?"

 

"What, where?" says Ellen.

 

Brian is coming out of one of the back rooms with another young man. They stop outside the door to talk, and the man talking to Brian ties a serving apron around his waist. Brian leans in close and the other man holds him back by flattening his palm against Brian's chest. Brian leans away again.

 

"It _is_ Brian," says Ellen. "What a coincidence seeing him here."

 

"I wonder who the other man is, the one that Brian's talking to?" Valda says. _"Ellen, do you think-?"_

 

"Damn it, _I can't see,_ " says Esther. She scrabbles in her handbag for her reading glasses and puts them on. 

 

She is just in time to see Brian turn Sonny around and sweep him into a kiss.

 

"Holy Hannah," says Valda, her mouth falling open.

 

Brian saunters towards the exit as the other man stares at his back.

 

" _Well_ ," says Esther.

 

"Is that Sonny?" says Valda. "He's hot. Like a young _Tyrone Power_."

 

"Who's Sonny?" says Esther.

 

"The young man that Annie's agency found for Brian," says Valda. "It looks like the date went well, what do you think, Ellen?"

 

"It's hard to say," says Ellen. "We don't really _know_. I need to be _sure_."

 

"Does Sonny work here?" asks Esther.

 

Ellen nods. "Annie says that he is one of the owners."

 

"That's promising," says Valda. "He's quite young to own a business. Enterprising."

 

Ellen nods. "This is a nice place."

 

Esther says, "I suppose I could always _try_ the Tiramisu. It doesn't hurt to try something new."

 

"They also have chocolate éclairs," says Valda.

 

* * *

 

Brian does the unthinkable. He reads his _Bliss! Jewish Dating Agency_ "Welcome Pack" and sets up his online profile.

 

He learns two things. First, Sonny was right, there was a seven day re-dating period. Secondly, whoever set up his profile used a very nerdy picture of him in his high school graduation robes.

 

 _Anne_.

 

He calls her up.

 

"So whassup?" says Anne.

 

"I want to know how to get around this bullshit re-dating period," says Brian.

 

"Are you talking about the 14 day re-dating period?" says Anne.

 

"No, I'm talking about the 7 day re-dating period," says Brian.

 

"I think you'll find that it's a 10 day re-dating period," she says.

 

"What is this? A comedy sketch?" he says. "I think you'll find it's seven."

 

"I think I would know if it was 10 or 7," says Anne. "After all it is my agency."

 

"You just said it was 14," says Brian.

 

"That's just something I tell people when I find them really annoying," says Anne.

 

"Yeah, well I've just read your welcome pack and it's seven."

 

"You've read the welcome pack?" says Anne. "Nobody reads the welcome pack."

 

"I also wanted to tell you that I don't appreciate the photograph you used on my online profile," says Brian.

 

"Not my fault. Mom chose that one," says Anne.

 

"I look all of fifteen in that photograph," said Brian. "And I had acne."

 

"Boo-hoo" says Anne. "You can change it yourself you know."

 

"I will," says Brian.

 

There is a pause over the phone.

 

Anne says, "Are we done?"

 

"No, I need to know how to get around the 7 day re-dating period," says Brian.

 

"No you don't," says Anne. "And before you say it, this is not me being a bitch. If you're asking about the re-dating period then Sonny brought it up, yeah? You know how I know this? He's the only client apart from you who has actually bothered to read the welcome pack."

 

When she hears nothing but silence, she continues, "So, somewhere along the line, your highly overrated charm and vaunted sex appeal has failed to impress. You are probably not the hero in the sack that you thought you were."

 

"This is you not being a bitch? Cause from my end I really don't see it," says Brian.

 

"The point I am trying to make is this. Welcome to the real world, where people don't usually have men falling at their feet 24/7, ready to cater to their every sexual whim. I am advising you not to crowd him, and to wait 6 more days."

 

"Why should I take your dating advice?" says Brian. "The last time you went on a date was, when exactly? 2011?"

 

"Don't be an asshole," says Anne, hanging up.

 

* * *

 

Will is sitting at the restaurant waiting for his date to arrive.

 

He sent off the non-disclosure agreement, and called Anne, who played a guessing game with him for a while, until he finally figured out who it was from her clues. She was in a surprisingly good mood.

 

So now he knows who he is looking for. When he was the captain of his high school baseball team a few years ago, he'd gotten his pitchers to study all the modern players. Now he is actually going to meet _the_ Paul Narita. 

 

In spite of himself, he feels strangely excited to meet him.

 

One of the Chez Rouge waiters arrives at his table.

 

"Would you like to look at a menu, sir?" he asks.

 

Will tells him that he is waiting for someone.

 

He waits at the restaurant for an hour, picking at his bread rolls and drinking water, waiting for Paul to arrive. He tries calling Anne but she doesn't pick up, so he leaves her a message.

 

Eventually he gives up and goes home.

 

* * *

 

Across town, at the Salem Inn, Paul is waiting for his date to arrive. He has gone for the casual look, a dark black sweater with black jeans. He hopes it's not too casual. He doesn't want to give offence on his first date.

 

A woman arrives in the private dining room. She is wearing a dark red dress with matching dark red lipstick on her lips. Her brown hair is piled artlessly and becomingly on the top of her head. She saunters up to him, looking him up and down. He is surprised when she stops at his table, but in retrospect, where else would she go? He'd hired the whole room, and was the only other person dining there tonight.

 

"Hello Handsome," she says. "I'm your date for tonight."

 

"Um, no," he says, startled into speech. "No, I really don't think so."

 


	8. Romeo's and Juliettes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul's arranged date goes awry; Sonny and Justin have a heart to heart; Brian questions Anne; Brian invites Paul to a friendly game of basketball; Theresa tries to avoid Anne.

Paul is sitting in the private dining room of the Salem Inn, when a woman in a red dress comes up to him and says, “Hello handsome, I'm your date for tonight.”

 

_No._

 

“Ah, _no_ ,” says Paul to the woman. “I really don't think so.”

 

“ _Anne_ sent me,” she says.

 

“Anne?” says Paul, his stomach sinking. If this was Will Horton, he didn't look at all like his picture. 

 

“You know, Anne _Milbauer._ From – _you know_.”

 

“No,” he says.

 

“I can't believe that you're going to make me say the name,” she says pouting, looking very put out. "The Bliss Jewish Dating Agency."

 

Paul stares at her, trying to discern if she has an adam's apple.

 

“Hey,” she says, suddenly. “Don't I know you from somewhere?”

 

Paul says, “No, we've never met before.”

 

“But you look so familiar.”

 

“I get that a lot. Miss-?”

 

“I'm Theresa,” she says.

 

“Theresa,” he says. “I'm afraid there's been some mistake. I'm here to meet somebody else.”

 

 _“I know,”_ she says, pulling out a chair and sitting down uninvited. “But _Kate_  couldn't make it _,_ so Anne sent me in her place. She had a hunch that we would hit it off. I believe her exact words were _“dream date”_.”

 

“That's – _unbelievable,_ ” says Paul.

 

“I know,” says Theresa. “Who would have thought that I would be free on a Friday night at such short notice? But Anne said it was _kismet;_ two lost and lonely souls destined to meet. I only just joined the agency, you see. It's, like, _Fate_  has brought us both together.” She places her hand over his and gives him a sultry look from beneath her sooty black eyelashes. “ _I'm your Pebbles,_ ” she says.

 

He slides his hand out from underneath hers and pulls his mobile phone out of his pocket.

 

“If you'll excuse me,” he says standing. “I just need to make a phone call.”

 

Theresa pouts.

 

“If you're calling Anne, she won't pick up,” she says, sourly.

 

Paul looks a question.

 

“Tonight is _Ladies' Night_ at _Romeo's Bar and Grill_ ,” she says. “Anne will already be on her third tequila shot, pawing at one of the waiters.”

 

“I was calling my agent,” lies Paul, cancelling the call and dialling a different number. His agent's voicemail answers. Paul leaves a message in Japanese.

 

“Your agent?” says Theresa. “Are you an actor? If you're not, you should be. You're very good looking.” She looks him up and down, eating him with her eyes. “You obviously work out a lot,” she says.

 

“Thanks,” says Paul.

 

“Do you think I'm – you know - _nice looking?”_ Theresa says hesitantly, looking up at him through her lashes and crossing her legs.

 

“You're a very pretty girl,” says Paul. “But I don't know who this Anne is, and have never heard of this agency. What was it called again?"

 

“Nice try,” says Theresa, “But that ship has sailed.I've seen drawings of those biceps of yours on your file, and I'd recognise them anywhere, _Bam Bam._ ”

 

Paul puts away his phone. “What else did you see in the file? Was there any – um – paperwork?”

 

“What kind of paperwork?”

 

“Documents,” says Paul.

 

“Like what?” says Theresa, perplexed.

 

It was probably too much to hope that Anne had gotten Theresa to sign his non-disclosure agreement.

 

Then Paul was struck suddenly by the possibility of a new horror.

 

What if, in the middle of this conversation with Theresa, Will Horton suddenly showed up and revealed that he was Paul's date? Even if Theresa didn't know who Paul was now, she'd seen him before, and would figure out his identity eventually. Then she would know he was gay, and _she_ hadn't legally promised not to tell anyone.

 

He could be outed in front of the world. His mother. His _grandfather_.

 

He had to get them away from here.

 

“How about we get out of here,” said Paul, reaching out a hand to help her out of her chair, “And go up to my hotel room?”

 

“Whoa, hold your horses, handsome,” says Theresa. “You may be cute, but this is still all very sudden. Maybe we could go and get a drink first?”

 

“I know the perfect place,” says Paul.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Sonny goes to dinner at his uncle Victor's that night, the atmosphere between his parents is strained. In a private moment with his father, he asks him what's going on.

 

“Adrienne thinks that I'm having an affair,” says Justin.

 

“Are you?” says Sonny.

 

“Sonny, how could you ask me that?” says Justin.

 

“I know it's none of my business,” says Sonny. “But you didn't answer the question.”

 

Justin says, “I love your Mother.”

 

Sonny nods.

 

“Our relationship has always been complicated,” says Justin. “I've always tried to be supportive of her. In turn, she has always been understanding of me. We've both been understanding of each other's – personal foibles.”

 

“Foibles?”

 

“Flaws,” says Justin. “Being in a marriage for a long time isn't easy. You may find that out yourself one day. Over time things change. You change. She changes. Your relationship changes.”

 

“And the flaws?,” says Sonny.

 

“It's the curse of the Kiriakis men,” says Justin. “At the time it seems natural to go after what we want, whatever the cost. It feels right. It's in our blood, it's coded into our genes. It's our strength and our curse. We're driven by our passions. We feel too much.”

 

“Hence, the flaws?” says Sonny.

 

“Yes,” says Justin.

 

“I don't know, Dad,” says Sonny. “That excuse sounds a little lame.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Anne is casually sitting on a bar stool at _Romeo's Bar and Grill_ with her eyes on a prime piece of booty.

 

“ _Hey, hot stuff,_ ” she calls to the waiter. “Over here.” She beckons with her fingers and shimmies in her tight wrap-around dress. _(Thank you push-up bra)._

 

The waiter pretends not to hear.

 

“Not on your team,” says a low male voice in her ear.

 

She looks at the handsome man next to her sourly. “What do you want? Can't you see I'm trying to have some fun?”

 

Brian leans back against the bar.

 

“Do you want to know who I saw at Sonny's coffee shop today?” he says.

 

“Do I look like I care?” says Anne. The waiter leans over and it pulls all of her attention. 

 

“It was Mother,” says Brian.

 

“Huh?” says Anne. Even in her preoccupied state, she recognises his error immediately and jumps on it. “No – Fridays she goes to _Finkelsteins._ Everybody knows that.”

 

“Yeah? Well apparently everybody and her Friday lunch group has started hanging out at _Common Grounds_ instead. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?” says Brian.

 

“Maybe she just wanted a change,” says Anne.

 

“She was talking to Sonny,” says Brian.

 

“He was probably taking her coffee order,” says Anne. “Wait - what were you doing there? I thought you were going to give Sonny a bit of space.”

 

“I was in the area,” says Brian.

 

Anne snorts. Usually she would take great joy in denying Brian whatever he wants, but this fool-for-love Brian is just too pathetic.

 

Maybe it's all the Juliettes and Tequila shots clouding her mind, but she says, not unkindly, “Take my advice. Wait the seven days, and I'll even say something nice about you at the end of it.”

 

“Or?” says Brian, waiting for the sting.

 

“Or conduct your grand romance in full view of _the_ _unwavering maternal gaze.”_

 

Brian, turns back towards the bar. "I need a drink," he says.

 

 

* * *

 

  

“We're going here?” says Theresa, looking panicked as Paul pulls into the carpark of Romeo's _Bar and Grill_ in his dark black sports car.

 

“You painted such a vivid word-picture that I felt like I had to see it for myself,” says Paul, taking her arm, and drawing her in with him. She stumbles over the threshold and into the bar. "Easy there," Paul says, righting her. “How many drinks did you have before you came to the restaurant?”

 

“I'm not drunk,” says Theresa. She straightens her outfit and flips her handbag strap back over her shoulder.

 

She sees Anne leaning next to the bar and before Paul turns to look, Theresa clutches Paul's arm. "This place is really loud. I was thinking - how about we go back to your hotel room after all?”

 

“But we just arrived,” says Paul. “Don't you want to stay for a drink?”

 

“No,” says Theresa. She grabs his sleeve and says, “Don't turn around.” In her peripheral vision, Theresa sees Anne grab the butt of a very startled waiter.

 

“Why not?” says Paul, trying to turn, but caught by Theresa's hands grabbing his jacket.

  

“I think I just saw my ex at the bar. No, don't look," Theresa says. "I don't want him to see us.” She sees the waiter free himself from Anne's grasp and make a break for the men's room. Anne chases after him.

 

Paul ignores Theresa's warning and turns towards the bar to see a group of men drinking together, one with his back turned to them, ordering at the bar.

 

“Which man is it?” says Paul.

 

“That one,” says Theresa, pointing vaguely at the group. “Let's just go now, before he sees us.”

 

She pulls at Paul's arm again, but can't budge him. A man at the bar turns around stares at them. Theresa swears under her breath.

 

He walks towards them. 

 

"Hey there, Princess," he says to Theresa, not taking his eyes off Paul. "Long time no see."

 

Theresa sighs. "I was hoping we could keep it that way."

 

The man smiles a large smile, and his pearly white teeth gleam against his tan.

 

Paul stares. Anyone would.

 

He smiles wider.

 

"I'm Brian," he says, holding out his hand.

 

"Paul," says Paul, returning the handshake.

 

"I know," says Brian. "I saw you play at Fenway. I wouldn't have expected to see you here. Salem is a bit - off the map, I would have thought." He keeps hold of Paul's hand, making no effort to let go.

 

Paul has the sudden impression that Theresa has a strangely specific taste in men, himself included. There is something about  Brian's handshake, and the way Brian's gaze is sweeping over his body.

 

"I have friends in town," Paul lies easily, removing his hand. He takes a step back and places his arm around Theresa's waist. Theresa looks surprised but pleased.

  

"How long are you planning to stay in town?" says Brian. 

 

"I'm not sure," says Paul, "but this town certainly does have it's attractions." He gazes at Theresa. He lets his hand slide lower and pats her behind.

 

Theresa giggles.

 

"Well if you get bored," Brian ignores Theresa's sudden scowl and continues, "some of my friends and I will be shooting hoops at noon two days from now. It's very casual. You're welcome to join us. It's on the court near Salem U."

 

"I don't think I've played basketball in years," says Paul.

 

"Then that gives the rest of us a chance," says Brian, and smiles charmingly.

 

Paul returns the smile in spite of himself.

 

"Leave him alone Brian," says Theresa. "We're together now. Come on Paul, let's go."

 

She grabs his hand and Paul lets her tug him away.

 

She runs straight into Anne.

 

"What the fuck?" says Anne. "What the hell are you doing here with him?"

 

  


	9. Date Night

 

“What the Hell is going on here?” says Anne, when she sees Theresa clinging to Paul's chiseled biceps. 

 

Her initial thoughts go something like this:

 

_One -_

 

Paul is supposed to be on a date. A date that Anne herself arranged, (at great cost to her own pride) with a _Horton_.

 

_Two -_

 

Instead of being on that date, her most moneyed client is having his magnificent muscles massaged by the the grabby paws of the litigious doe-eyed slut who stole her coffee-machine. 

 

_Three -_

 

How are they even together right now? They never even met. _What? When? The hell?_

 

_Four -_

 

This is meant to be Anne’s happy hour, but she _isn’t_ happy _at all._

 

_(Theresa rubbing Paul’s biceps is not helping, because those guns are Anne’s play toys of choice.)_

 

_Five -_

 

Paul is supposed to be _Gay, Gay, Gay._

“You're going out with _her_?” Anne says, to Paul. _“Whyyyyyyyyyy?”_

 

“Anne, don't you remember?" Theresa says slowly, as if speaking to a small child. "His date couldn't make it, but luckily for you, I happened to be available. _You said it was kismet.”_

 

Anne stares at her blankly. 

 

“Like Hell I did,” she says. 

  

“She’s clearly drunk,” says Theresa, looking up at Paul. 

 

 _So stupid,_ thinks Anne. “Of course I’ve drunk,” she says. “This is _a bar.”_

 

Theresa side-eyes Anne and pantomimes a gesture that Anne has no problem recognising (she's seen Theresa do it often enough);  _Tilt head and imbibe._

 

“Come on, Baby,” says Theresa, stroking Paul's arm coaxingly. “How about we blow this joint, and go back to your hotel room?”

 

The bicep stroking is the final straw. 

  

“Get your paws off my client!” Anne yells. 

 

She grabs at Theresa, roughly dragging her away from Paul.  

  

“Hey! Get off!” shrieks Theresa, breaking from her grip. “Stop it!”

  

Paul steps between Anne and Theresa.

  

“She's crazy!” says Theresa, hiding behind Paul's back. “Don't let her near me!”

 

“It’s all right,” says Paul to Theresa. Anne has taken hold of his arm.

 

“Ms. Milbauer? Is what Theresa says true? Did you arrange this date?” Paul asks, but Anne is too preoccupied stroking his arm to pay attention. He tries to take his arm away, but gives up when she won’t let go.   

 

Theresa says, “Of course it’s true! How else would I have known where to meet you?”

 

“Miss Milbauer?” says Paul impatiently, shaking his arm. 

 

Anne realises that he is talking to her, and stares at Paul wordlessly. She foggily remembers the non-disclosure agreement; the suitcase full of money; Paul's Japanese bodyguards; Paul's half-naked body walking out of the bathroom wearing only a towel.  

 

Her mind lingers on that last visual for a minute.

  

Paul takes her lack of denial as confirmation. “So it is true. You arranged - _this.”_

 

Anne can hear the weary disappointment in his voice.  

  

“What?” says Anne. “No! I didn’t arrange this - this abomination!”

 

“Then how would she know the details of our date, if you didn’t give them to her?” says Paul. 

 

Anne is nonplussed. _She can’t think._

 

“This is not my fault,” she says. “Paul – _Mr Narita_ – you've got to believe me!”

  

“Why do you even care what she says?” Theresa interrupts. “You like me, don't you, Paul?”

  

“It was her,” accuses Anne, pointing at Theresa. “She burst into my office this morning, trying to get her old job back, and when I wouldn't give it to her, she stole my files!”

  

“She's deluded,” says Theresa. “Look at her – she thinks that wrap-around dresses are evening wear. How can you believe someone like that over me?”  

 

Theresa's eyes fill with unshed tears.

  

Paul is uncertain. Theresa is pushy, but is she a thief? And even if Anne is her own particular kind of crazy, polyester wrap-around dresses are **_daywear_** at best.

  

Anne feels all the eyes in the crowd staring at her. 

 

_Judging her._

  

“She stole my coffee machine!” Anne tells them, pointing a finger at Theresa. “It was the only coffee machine I ever owned that made coffee - _just the way I like it!_ ”

  

All eyes in the club turn towards Theresa.

  

“Will you just shut up about that damn coffee machine?” says Theresa. “It sucked! It was noisy and always spilled over the edge of the cup. I’m sick of hearing about that stupid coffee machine!”

 

Paul says, “You really stole her coffee machine?”

  

Theresa says, “It wasn't stealing, it was a _present!”_

 

 _“It was not a present!”_  

 

Anne suddenly barrels past Paul and tackles Theresa to the floor. They go down in a tangle of limbs: rolling, kicking, scratching and biting.

  

A voice in the crowd calls out, _“Catfight!”_

  

 

* * *

 

 

 

When Anne opens her eyes, she’s lying on her back, staring at a tacky silver lampshade, hung from a dark coloured ceiling. 

 

Suddenly the lampshade is replaced by Brian’s face looking down at her. 

 

“How many fingers am I holding up?” he says, waving his hand in front of her face. 

 

She slaps his hand away, gingerly lifting her head. 

 

_Yes, it is still attached to her body._

 

“What happened?” she croaks. 

 

“What didn’t?” says Brian. “It was like the women’s WWE came to town.”

 

Another face looks down at her. It’s Paul Narita. He looks across at Brian. 

 

“Is she going to be all right?” he asks.

 

Brian shrugs. “I’ve seen worse.” He nods over at the other couch, where Anne can see (and hear) Theresa moaning and clutching her head. “Over there for instance.”

 

“I mean, will she need to go to the hospital?” Paul says. 

 

“We’d better take them both,” says Brian. “That was a pretty epic _head butt_.”

 

Anne says, “Did I win?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

With a broken shoe, black eye, and more bruises than she can count, Anne limps weakly out of _Romeo's Bar_ towards Brian’s car. She thinks she'll probably have to get a tetanus shot; she's more than half-convinced that Theresa is feral. She rubs gingerly at the fiery red imprint of Theresa's teeth on her arm.

  

Before Paul leaves to drive Theresa to the hospital, he says to Anne: “Now is not an appropriate time, but _we will_ be talking about this.”

 

Anne sees the grim look in his eyes, but it is missed by Brian, who says, “I think everyone will be talking about it.”

 

Paul leads a limping Theresa back to his car. As Anne watches, she sees her favourite waiter staring back at her from the crowd. 

  

She gives him a little wave.  

  

He pretends not to see it.

 

On the way to the hospital Anne is quiet. 

 

“What’s got into you?” says Brian. “Are you okay?”

 

Anne grunts.  _She is in so much trouble. Paul will probably quit her agency._

 

Then she suddenly remembers.

 

_Will._

 

_Shit._

 

“Where’s my phone?” says Anne. 

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“It was in my handbag. Where’s my handbag? Did we leave it at the bar? We have to go back.”

 

“The bag is in the back seat,” says Brian. 

 

Anne cranes around the seat, trying to grab hold of it. 

 

“Do you really need to do that right now?” says Brian.

 

“Fuck off,” says Anne, snagging the bag, and pulling the phone out. 

 

There is one message on it from Will Horton:

 

_Expect a visit from my grandma in the morning. Oh – and guess what? – You're fired!_

 

“Fuck!” says Anne. She doesn’t know which is worse, losing a client, or having to talk to Kate Roberts. 

 

They pull up outside the hospital. 

 

* * *

 

After his conversation with his father, Sonny searches for his mother and finds her drinking alone in the sitting room. Victor and Maggie have gone up to bed.

 

“I’m sure he’s seeing Elsa," Adrienne says, sounding defeated. "But if I even try to bring it up, suddenly it’s me being jealous and unreasonable. _Imagining things._ But I _know._ A wife always _knows_.” She looks at him with hollow, dark-ringed eyes.

 

“I'm sorry Dad's being an idiot,” says Sonny.

 

Adrienne hugs him.

 

He hugs her back and says, “It will be all right, Mom.”

 

“Actually, I’m sick of talking about it,” she says, letting him go. “I would much rather hear about you. How is the agency working out? Have you met any nice men yet?”

 

“I've been on a few dates,” Sonny says. “But nothing too serious.”

 

“Oh,” Adrienne looks sad. 

 

“There was one I liked,” Sonny says, trying to cheer her up. He describes his meeting with Will. (He leaves out the detail of the way it ended.)

 

Adrienne says, "Oh," in a flat voice.

 

It wasn't quite the reaction he expected. He'd thought it was a cute story. A cute _meet-cute._

 

"Sonny," she says. "You know I just want you to be happy..."

 

"But?" says Sonny.

 

"This boy, Will. It sounds like he isn't even _Out_ yet."

 

Sonny says, "He _is_   _Out_ , just not to everyone."

 

"I just think," says Adrienne, "that maybe you should find someone who is at the same stage that you are, and wants the same things. It sounds as if this Will still needs time to find himself."

 

"You act like it's Will's fault," says Sonny defensively. "Everyone coming out has to start somewhere."

 

"Yes they do. But, honey, what if that means he doesn't end up with you?" says Adrienne, not convinced. “I just don't want you to go into this relationship with unrealistic expectations. When will you be seeing him again?”

 

“Um ... he hasn’t called back,” says Sonny, regretting the words as soon as they leave his mouth.

 

 _"Sonny!"_ says his mom.

 

"It's only been a couple of weeks," says Sonny.

 

“Oh, _Sonny_ ,” says Adrienne. "This is exactly what I was afraid of. I just don't want you to get your hopes up. I don't want you to get hurt."

 

“It’s not a big deal,” says Sonny.

 

“If this _'Will'_  doesn’t realise how great you are, then he doesn’t deserve you,” says Adrienne. “In fact, forget all about him. I bet there are dozens of men at that agency who would love to go out with you. I’ll give Anne a call tomorrow.”

 

“Mom, _no,”_ says Sonny.

 

“But Sonny -“

 

“I mean it, Mom. Don’t interfere. I can take care of things myself.”

 

“But -“

 

“Promise you won't call,” says Sonny. 

 

“I promise I won’t call Anne tomorrow,” says Adrienne. "Happy?"

 

"Nice try," says Sonny. "Promise you won't call her, period."

 

"I promise I won't call her," says Adrienne.Sonny must look skeptical because she says, again, _"I promise!"_ and holds her hands up, as if in surrender. 

 

Sonny accepts it. "I'm going to head off home now."

 

He doesn't get away without one last hug.

 

* * *

 

 

When Theresa next opens her eyes, there is an unknown woman standing at the end of her hospital bed. She’s young like Theresa, dark-haired, slim, and dressed in a smart pants suit. She is not wearing a doctor’s coat, or a nurse’s uniform. 

 

“Hi!” says the woman. “How are you …” She glances at Theresa’s chart, “… Theresa?”

 

“When can I get out of here?” says Theresa, bored already. It already feels as if she has been here _for_ _hours_.  

 

“I have no idea,” the other woman says, her eyes widening. 

 

“Are you a doctor?” says Theresa. 

 

“No,” says her visitor. 

 

“A lawyer?” guesses Theresa. She has the look. It’s in the eyes.

 

“No," she says, handing Theresa a business card. “My name is Zoe Browning. I’m the editor of _Sonix Magazine_.”

 

“Never heard of it,” says Theresa, dismissively. “Go away.”

 

Zoe says, “ _Sonix_  is the country’s _leading_  digital entertainment magazine. We run stories of human interest. You know, celebrities, scandals, the loves and lives of the rich and famous, that sort of thing.”

 

“You’re interested in my life?” says Theresa. 

 

“ _In_ _a way_ ,” Zoe says. “I’ve heard from several reliable sources that Paul Narita was involved in an altercation at a popular Salem night club tonight, and that you were at the centre of it. I wanted to interview you for the story.”

 

Theresa shudders at the sudden memory of the drunken patrons of _Romeo's Bar_ chanting,  _“Cat-fight! Cat-fight!”._

 

“No thanks,” says Theresa.

 

“I can make it worth your while,” says Zoe. “If you give _Sonix_ exclusive rights to the story.”

 

“I don’t know,” says Theresa. “Paul and I are very, very close. He may see it as a betrayal of trust.”

 

“We provide confidentiality for all our sources,” says Zoe, “if you have an interesting story to sell. As I may have mentioned before, for the right story, we can pay very, very well.”

 

“How well?” says Theresa, seeing a way out of her current financial crisis. 

 

“Let’s talk,” says Zoe, taking a seat next to her bedside. 

 


	10. The End of Bliss (Part 1)

At _The Brady Pub_ , Will broods darkly over his long, half-fat, soy macchiato.

 

Since he’d been stood up on his date the night before, he’d begun to think that this whole dating thing was not meant to be. Not that it had to mean the end of the world; a lot of men lived perfectly satisfactory lives without sex. Monks for instance. His uncle Eric. Those dudes who played multi-player online games. His friend, T.

 

“Will!” calls Gabi. “Customers!”

 

Will puts on his apron and gets ready for the morning rush, his decision made. He is going to give up on dating forever and become a computer ninja.

 

 

* * *

 

 

At _Common Grounds,_ Adrienne sips her g _rande mocca latte_ in a pale blue mug. She watches Sonny bus tables.

 

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Sonny says in a quiet moment. “It’s busier here than I thought it would be.”

 

“It’s fine, baby,” she says. “I was enjoying my coffee.”

 

“Give me a minute,” says Sonny, “and I’ll join you.”

 

Someone taps him on his shoulder and Sonny turns in the wrong direction. When he recognises who ghosted him, he laughs and says, “Oh, hey.”

 

“I can’t believe you keep falling for that,” says a tall good-looking man.  

 

“What are you talking about?” says Sonny, smiling back. “That’s the first time you’ve ever done that.”

 

They stand smiling at each other for a moment.

 

The stranger looks over at Adrienne and she wonders why Sonny hasn’t mentioned _this man_ to her before. The stranger smiles, and Adrienne glimpses a perfect row of gleaming white teeth.

 

She stares. _(Anybody would)._

 

He smiles even wider.

 

She turns her gaze to Sonny, questioning.

 

He says nothing and her curiosity is piqued.

 

“Sonny,” prompts Adrienne. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

 

“Mom, this is Brian. Brian, this is my mother,” says Sonny.

 

“Pleased to meet you,” says Brian, shooting her another smile.

 

“Sonny!” says a harried staff-member, joining them. “Sorry, but there’s something wrong with the coffee machine.”

 

“I’ll take a look,” says Sonny. “Mom, I’m sorry, I gotta go.”

 

“That’s okay, baby,” says Adrienne. “You take care of business. I can occupy myself.” She looks over at Brian.

 

Sonny shoots her a look before he leaves.

 

"I'll catch you later," says Brian, and Sonny nods, walking off to fix the coffee machine.  

 

“Would you like to join me for coffee, Brian?” asks Adrienne.

 

Brian smiles.

 

 

* * *

 

 

At the _Bliss Jewish Dating Agency_ , Anne Milbauer pours herself another cup of instant coffee. The poor tasting brew adds fresh pain to her wounds, as she remembers her former coffee machine and the milky concoctions that were once her daily ritual.

 

_No more._

 

Anne stares dolefully into her cup.

 

This morning she’d found an eviction notice posted on her front door, and was forced to climb up the fire escape to bypass the new locks on the doors. Then her bank manager had called to tell her that the cheque from Paul’s agent had been cancelled and that she was overdrawn on her account.

 

She would like nothing more than to go home and forget that the last few days ever happened, but this was her life now: waiting near the phone for the inevitable haranguing by Kate Roberts, and for the arrival of three stout Japanese gentlemen at her doorway, so she could scrape, bow and beg for another chance.

 

She would be lucky to be able to afford instant coffee after this, let alone pay the electricity bill to heat the water.

 

She drinks her terrible coffee and the phone rings.

 

It’s Walter Moss, asking her out for a lobster luncheon.

 

Anne races out of the door.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Will’s great-grandmother is in a fury. A rival business at the other end of the square has been leaving discount coupons on the tables at The Brady Pub.

 

Caroline angrily waves a handful of flyers in the air and one flutters to the ground.

 

Will picks it up. It is a flyer for _Common Grounds. "_ _10% off cakes and pastries upon presentation of this coupon, or one FREE coffee refill."_

 

“It’s piracy!” croaks his great grandma Caroline. “They’re trying to poach our customers! I have half a mind to go over there and give them what for!” She picks up a wooden spoon and waves it menacingly in the air.

 

“Please don’t, Great-Grandma,” says Will.

 

“If I see the low-life who's been leaving these on our tables, he’ll get what’s coming to him,” says Caroline vengefully, jabbing the air with a spoon.

 

Gabi coaxes it out of her hand, and draws her into a chair.

 

“We’ll put a stop to it,” says Gabi. “In fact, Will is going to go there and talk to the management right now, aren’t you Will?”

 

“I am?” says Will.

 

“Yes, you are,” says Gabi.

 

“Would you?” asks Caroline, looking suddenly frail and hopeful, and every day of her eighty-plus years.

 

Will cringes inwardly. Going to some stranger and accusing them of stealing their customers is the last thing he wants to do. But his great-grandmother suddenly looks so tired and lost, that Will instantly caves.

 

“Of course I will,” says Will.

 

“You are such a sweet boy,” says Caroline, swatting his cheek.

 

 

* * *

 

 

As Anne is half-way through eating her lobster tail, Walter Moss puts a hand on her leg. At first she thinks he’s reaching for her napkin, but the fingers under her skirt give her knee a firm squeeze.

 

The lobster drops out of her mouth.

 

“What the Hell?” says Anne, pushing away from the table. “You’re supposed to be gay!”

 

“What are you talking about, lovey?” says Walter. “I’m not gay.”

 

“But - but - _”_ Anne searches her brain. She is sure that he told her that he was gay. “You said that you were into a “quote-unquote” _alternative lifestyle.”_

 

“The bohemian lifestyle of the _artiste_ ,” says Walter. He laughs. “Do I really look _gay_ to you?”

 

Anne stares at him, at his orange spray tan and his combed-over hair. He is wearing a brightly patterned scarf, an unbuttoned pinstripe suit jacket, and white sailor pants with Italian loafers.

 

“Well, y _es,”_ says Anne, truthfully.

 

“What?” says Walter, affronted. “You’ve been my dating specialist for the last six months, and you didn’t even know I was straight?”

 

“It’s not as if I've ever set you up on a date,” says Anne unwisely. She winces as soon as the words are out of her mouth.

 

“I had assumed that you were keeping me to yourself,” said Walter. “Hence the lunches, and the lack of dates with other interested parties.”

 

“Erm,” mumbles Anne.

 

“There were other interested parties?” says Walter.

 

“Well-” says Anne, floundering.

 

Walter stands.

 

“Walter,” says Anne placatingly. “Don’t get mad. It’s me, _Annie_. Your _pal_. I just wanted to find someone extra _extra_ special for you.”

 

"Unbelievable,” says Walter, picking up his satchel bag. “Madam, consider your services terminated.”

 

“Walter,” says Anne. _“You can’t leave. Please_.”

 

“Give me one reason why I should stay,” he says.

 

“I need you pick up the cheque?" she says.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Adrienne corners Sonny in the back store room at _Common Grounds_ , whilst he is looking for his unused supply of mugs. (But really avoiding his mother and Brian). 

 

“Sorry Mom, I really have to find these,” says Sonny.

 

“It’s okay,” says Adrienne.

 

She doesn’t leave.

 

“Brian seems nice,” she says. "And he's medical student."

 

“Mm,” says Sonny, discouragingly.

 

"He's on the Dean's list, _and_ captain of his crew team. "

 

"Did he tell you that?"

 

"No, I Googled him," said Adrienne. 

 

"Mom-"

 

“I've never heard you mention him before. Have you known him for long?”

 

“Not that long,” he says, looking in another box.

 

“How did the two of you meet?” she asks. 

 

“You can stop fishing, Mom,” says Sonny. “He’s just a friend.”

 

“Did the agency introduce you to him?”

 

When Sonny doesn’t answer, Adrienne claps her hands and says, “I knew it! Do you like him?”

 

“I told you, he’s _just a friend,_ ” says Sonny. 

 

“Nothing more?” says Adrienne, crestfallen.

 

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

 

“But he is so good looking,” says Adrienne.

 

Sonny keeps checking the shelves.

 

“Sonny?” says Adrienne.

 

Silence.

 

“You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed,” says Adrienne.

 

Silence.

 

“Sonny?” says Adrienne.

 

“Aha,” says Sonny, pulling out the missing box of mugs. “Gotcha.”

 

“I just hope you know what you’re doing,” says Adrienne.

 

“Bye Mom,” says Sonny, kissing her on the cheek.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Will walks into _Common Grounds._ The coffee house is warm and inviting, with a chalkboard of specials, wooden tables, a central sofa, and booths along the edges of the walls.

 

He recognises Brian, walking towards the entrance, and instantly crouches over his sneakers, pretending to tie his shoelaces until Brian is out of sight.

 

When he stands, a familiar voice says, “Dude!”

 

Will spins around.

 

“T?” he says.

 

“Man, it’s been ages since I’ve seen you,” says T. “Whenever I go to The Brady Pub you’re never there. It’s like you just dropped off the face of the planet.”

 

“Sorry,” says Will. “But things have been pretty hectic, what with college and my family. How have you been?”

 

“I work here, now,” says T. “I’m assistant manager. Well, _practically_.”

 

“Practically?”

 

“Right now it’s more of an unofficial title. But I’m working on it,” he says. “It’s only a matter of time before my boss falls prey to the _Tad Stevens charm_.”

 

“Uh, yeah,” says Will, remembering why he is there. “Is the owner here?”

 

“Why? You want to work here too?” T asks.

 

“No,” says Will. He explains about the discount coupons being left in Caroline’s pub.

 

“I’ll tell him,” says T. “Leave it to me.”

 

“Um, great,” says Will. “Thanks.” He stands there awkwardly.

 

“You want to get together later?” says T. “It’ll be like old times.”

 

“Yeah,” says Will. “That would be great. Um, you will remember to talk to him, yeah?”

 

“Don’t sweat it,” says T. “I’ve got it covered.”

 

“Um yeah,” says Will. “Well, see ya.”

 

“Later Dude!” says T.

 

He watches Will leave the café.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Anne returns to the _Bliss! Jewish Dating Agency,_ there are three large orange-garbed men attempting to carry her antique reproduction walnut desk out of her office.

 

“What the Hell is going on here?” says Anne. “Put that desk down!”

 

“We have permission to be here, lady,” says the removalist. “The landlord gave us the key. This desk is being _repossessed_.”

 

“Oh no you don't!” says Anne.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Fifty metres from The Brady Pub, guilt makes Will retrace his steps back to _Common Grounds_. He’d told his great-grandma that he was going to talk to the manager, but he couldn’t quite shake the guilt he felt at palming off the job onto T.

 

In the café, T sees him immediately.

 

“Dude! You miss me already?” he jokes.

 

“Hey T,” said Will. “Yeah I, like, think I should just talk to the owner myself, about that thing.”

 

“What, you don’t trust me?” says T.

 

“No, man. It’s not that. It’s just that it was, like, my responsibility,” he says. 

 

“And you’re worried I’m going to flake out,” says T. “I won’t.”

 

“I’m sorry,” says Will. “Where is he?”

 

“Dude, this is so uncool,” says T, trying to stare him down. 

 

“Is he back here?” Will points towards an office door at the back of the premises.

 

“You can’t go back there.” T grabs his arm.

 

“Why not?” says Will.

 

“Because it was me,” T says. “I was the one who left the leaflets at the Brady Pub. And you can’t tell my boss about it.”

 

“You? I don’t get it. Why even do it, if you think he wouldn’t like it?” asks Will.

 

“I wanted that assistant manager position. I came up with the suggestion for the vouchers, and he left it to me to organise the printing and distribution. The amount those guys charge for handing out leaflets - I thought I could do just as good a job myself,” said T.

 

“And pocket the fee?” says Will.

 

“I’m cheap,” says T. _“Not free._ Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal. It just took so much time to hand the leaflets out, and I had so many left over, that I just started leaving them everywhere I went. I won’t do it anymore, I promise. Just don’t tell Sonny.”

 

“Who?” says Will.

 

“My boss _,”_ says T.

 

"What did you say his name was?” says Will.

 

"Will?" says a voice behind him.

 

He turns and is suddenly staring into Sonny's eyes.

 

"Oh, hey," says Will.

 

 


	11. The End of Bliss (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonny's date with Will.

 

 

Will gazes into the deep twin pools of Sonny’s luminous dark eyes. 

 

It’s sort of _a moment._

 

T, of course, spoils it.

 

He says, “Well. Will has to go now, to do that _thing_ that his great-grandmother wanted him to do.” He pulls at Will's arm. 

 

“What are you talking about?” says Will. 

 

“That thing,” says T. “That you have to go and do. _Now.”_

 

“I want to stay,” says Will. “For a,” – he looks around - _“Cup of coffee.”_

 

“T can get it for you,” says Sonny. “Can't you, T?”

 

T ungraciously stalks off. 

 

“He doesn't approve of you being gay?” asks Sonny. 

 

“I don't think that he knows,” says Will. 

 

“I wouldn't count on it,” says Sonny, looking over Will's shoulder. T is staring at them with consternation. Sonny touches Will's shoulder. “You're friends? I'm sorry.”

 

“Listen,” says Will. “I don't want _this_ to be about _that_. I'm tired of thinking about who knows if I'm gay or not, and who is an ally or what. I don't care, I am so over it all. I want -” Will pauses and looks around the coffee house, and there is a couple in the booth in the corner holding hands, and he says, “ _I want_ you to have coffee with me. _Now._ I've been trying to get in touch with you _forever_.”

 

“You have?” says Sonny, surprised and pleased. 

 

“Didn't you get my emails?” says Will. 

 

“No,” says Sonny.

 

In the corner of his eye, Will sees T coming at them again with no coffee and a determined expression. 

 

“Do you think that we could get out of here for a little while?” says Will. “Will they let you go for a break?”

 

“I think that since “ _they”_ are _me_ , “ _they”_ definitely would,” says Sonny.

 

“ _Boss_ ,” says T. “There is a problem with the coffee machine.”

 

“Again?” says Sonny. 

 

“You’d better have a look,” says T. 

 

“It will just take a minute,” Sonny tells Will. He walks off to look at the coffee machine. 

 

When Sonny is out of hearing distance, T rounds on Will. 

 

“What are you doing?” he whispers angrily. 

 

“He's a friend of mine,” says Will. “We're going out.”

 

“Are you going to tell him about the pub?” says T. 

 

“No,” says Will. 

 

“Then what are you going out with him for?”

 

“It'll be fun,” says Will. 

 

“He's gay, just so you know,” says T. 

 

Sonny comes back suddenly, startling T.

 

“I fixed it,” he says.

 

“What?” says T. “Are you sure?”

 

“Yes. I plugged it back into the power outlet,” says Sonny. “Can you hold the fort for the next hour or so? I'm going out.” 

 

He doesn't wait for the answer and reaches behind the counter for his jacket. He meets Will at the door and holds it open for him. Will ducks through. 

 

T stares at them as they leave together. 

 

* * *

 

Sonny is walking with Will in the park.

 

“In Mexico, we went to Chichén Itzá,” Sonny says. “If you visit during the equinox, early or late enough in the day, you can see the light from the sun create the illusion of a giant serpent slithering up and down the staircase—”

 

There is a little bounce in his step as he walks, and when Will suddenly stops, he finds himself three steps ahead of him.

 

“Will?” he questions. 

 

“I’m sorry about last time,” says Will. “I didn’t want you to think that I didn’t want your phone number. I _did_. But my Dad was there and I haven’t told him about — me — yet. I didn’t want him to find out like that.”

 

“That was your Dad?” said Sonny. He remembers the handsome man in his late 30’s who handed Sonny back his card. He’d thought he was a friend of Will’s. He’d been _cute_.

 

“He was —” Sonny changes his sentence, midstream “— quite short.”

 

Will laughs.

 

“Don’t tell _him_ that. My mom’s current boyfriend is very tall,” says Will. “It’s always been a sore point.”

 

“I won’t,” says Sonny. He steps closer. Will’s eyes are a beautiful shade between blue and grey. He looks down at Will’s hands and deliberately takes hold of one of them.

 

Will stares at their linked hands.

 

“What about that cup of coffee?” says Sonny quietly.

 

“Um, sure,” says Will.

 

Minutes later, they’re wandering around the square hand-in-hand looking a coffee vendor (that isn’t TBD or The Brady Pub).

 

Will is becoming a little anxious that one of his family might see them together, but he still keeps hold of Sonny’s hand, squeezing it for reassurance. Sonny smiles back at him. 

 

“What about Chez Rouge?” says Sonny. “Have you tried their coffee?”

 

“I’ve tried it,” says Will, remembering the previous evening.

 

“Was it terrible?” asks Sonny, reading Will’s expression.

 

“No, it was good,” says Will. “We should go in.”

 

They take a table inside.

 

“I’ve never been to this place before,” says Sonny. “Is the food nice?”

 

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve only tasted the breadsticks.”

 

“You didn’t have anything off the menu?” says Sonny.

 

“No,” says Will.

 

“Were the waiters rude?” asks Sonny.

 

“No,” says Will.

 

“Did you run out of money?” Sonny asks. “It happens. Especially when you’re a struggling college student.”

 

“No,” says Will.

 

Sonny is quiet.

 

“I was stood up,” says Will.

 

“On a date?” asks Sonny.

 

“Yes,” says Will.

 

“From the agency?” Sonny asks.

 

“Actually,” Will starts to say, then stops. 

 

{NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT ALERT!}

 

“I never got to meet him,” Will says.

 

“That’s too bad,” says Sonny, beaming.

 

“You don’t have to look so happy about it,” says Will.

 

Sonny laughs.

 

“I have the _worst_ dating luck,” says Will. “It’s _tragic_.” He remembers his dad showing up on his date with Sonny. _Epic fail!_

 

Sonny leans in until his face is only inches away. He takes Will’s hand over the table.

 

“If it’s any consolation,” says Sonny, “I think your luck is going to get better very, very soon.”

 

“Oh,” says Will.

 

The waiter interrupts to ask them if they would like anything to eat or drink.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sonny orders coffee first, then dessert, entreating Will to share his tea cake. They talk about Sonny’s café for a while, Will’s job, the tea cake, Sonny’s travels — Sonny thinks he may have spoken a little too long and too enthusiastically about mountain-climbing when Will stifles a yawn behind his hand — he changes the subject to Will’s studies and Will waxes poetic about creative writing until the conversation gradually winds down.

 

Will excuses himself from the table.

 

Sonny smiles to himself.

 

His mobile jangles and he pulls it out of his pocket. The _Bliss! Jewish Dating Agency_ app blinks the arrival of a new message to his inbox.

 

_It’s Brian._

 

Sonny’s finger hovers over the message as if to delete it, but he opens it instead. Brian wants to meet him for dinner tonight.

 

Will returns from the rest-room and Sonny is quick to clear Brian’s message from his screen. He thinks he’s pressed it a few too many times, because it freezes for a few seconds. Finally the message “Delete?” appears on the screen. Sonny presses “Ok” and Brian’s icon disappears from the app. Sonny frowns.

 

“Is anything wrong?” says Will.

 

“No,” says Sonny, putting away his phone. “Nothing I can’t fix later.”

 

“I suppose —” says Sonny.

 

“I suppose —” says Will at the same time.

 

Sonny laughs and says, “You first.”

 

“Do you want to leave now?” says Will.

 

Sonny is a little disappointed that the date is going to end already.

 

“I guess I probably should be getting back to work,” he says, reluctantly. TBD probably needs him. After all, he left T in charge.

 

“Oh,” says Will. “Yeah.”

 

Sonny signals the waiter for the cheque.

 

* * *

 

 

Outside the restaurant, Will puts his hands in his pockets, shuffling his feet as he waits for Sonny to come out of the exit.

 

“I liked today,” says Sonny. “Maybe we can do it again.”

 

“I’d like that,” says Will.

 

Sonny moves in a little closer. Behind him the dappled light through the vines of the neighbouring terrace garden draw a halo of light above his head. 

 

Will looks around. There are no other people nearby.

 

He feels Sonny’s soft full lips press against his. They pull apart and Will feels Sonny’s hand at the back of his neck, pulling him in for a second surprise kiss.

 

Sonny pulls away slowly, searching Will’s gaze.

 

“Tonight?” he asks.

 

“Sure,” says Will.

 

“At your place? Or should we meet somewhere else?” says Sonny.

 

“Not mine,” says Will. “I live in a dorm. How about we meet at TBD?”

 

“After work?” says Sonny. “I’ll text you with the details.”

 

* * *

 

Brian walks into the _Bliss! Jewish Dating Agency_ to see Anne playing tug of war over her desk.

 

"This is my desk, you bloodsuckers,” Anne screeches. “You can't have it!"

 

"Lady, you need to let go now," says a man in coveralls. “This desk belongs to the finance company.”

 

"Fuck off," says Anne. 

 

The two men on the other side of the desk start dragging the old desk inch by inch towards to the door, with Anne tugging frantically on the other end. The legs scrape against the floor with a loud squeal that makes tracks against the wooden floorboards.

 

_Fuck it._ "How much do you want for the desk?" says Brian.

 

Everyone turns around in surprise. Nobody had seen him come in.

 

"Who the fuck are you?" says overall man.

 

Brian pulls out his wallet.

 

* * *

 

Later, Anne and Brian are both sitting on the desk in Anne's almost empty office.

 

"Mother doesn't know does she? That your business is tanking?" says Brian. "Because if she did, she'd have you out of here and in the bagel shop baking _rugelach_ quicker than you can say _Yom Kippur._ "

 

"Don't tell her about this," warns Anne.

 

"I'll think about it," says Brian. "If you help me with Sonny.”

 

"What have you done?” says Anne.

 

Brian pulls his mobile from his pocket. "I wrote to him earlier to see if he wanted to meet up. Now there’s a message on my phone saying that I’ve been taken off his dating list.”

 

“Well _whattayaknow_ ,” says Anne. “It works.”

 

"Great," says Brian. "So, put me back on."

 

"I can't," says Anne. "The client controls the list. It's out of my hands." 

 

Brian stares at her, then looks down at his phone, the implications suddenly clear. 

 

“Does he really not want to see me again?” says Brian. 

 

Anne is reminded of a moment many years ago, after Brian had just come to live with them. His natural mother had dropped him off at their home to live with his father, hugged him in the hallway, and left him standing in his private school uniform surrounded by suitcases. Anne had felt so sorry for him that she took him into the kitchen to make him a sandwich. 

 

“Do you want to go and get a bite to eat?” she asks him now.

 

* * *

 

Contrary to all expectations, when Anne returned from lunch, Kate Roberts was not waiting for her at her office breathing fire, Paul Narita's agent hadn't called, and her mother's preternatural ability to sense Anne's failings from miles away had failed to ignite. 

 

_(In fact, Anne hadn't heard a peep out of her mother in days.)_

 

Brian had been civil to her over lunch, and the time spent away from the office had given her an idea how she could reclaim her lost clients. She would need to use her skill and talent as a matchmaker to find her outgoing clients a suitable partner, and match them up, before they decided to leave the agency permanently. 

 

How hard could it be? Anne was a _personnel professional._

 

She had _skills_. 

 

According to some (best not to dwell on who), she had “ _the gift”._

 

Anne takes out her client folders, and pulls out their profile pictures and information. She hesitates over Will, but since Kate was the one who hired her, not Will, she keeps his photo in the pack. Walter gets put to one side. 

 

Like a tarot card reader divining the future, Anne lays out the photos of her remaining clients in individual piles (using a cut-out photo of Paul from a magazine article to substitute for his non-existent headshot) and starts shuffling them about, pairing them with one person after the next and scrutinising their profiles for additional clues. 

 

After two hours she _knows_ exactly who to match with whom, and the head shots of Paul, Brian and Will stare up at her, placed above their perfectly divined match. 

 

Her gift instinctively whispers to her that all of these choices are _right_ ; each pairing in it's own way has the potential for future relationship happiness. 

 

It’s just a pity that Paul, Brian and Will are all matched up with the _same_ person. She  stares down at three separate but slightly different photos of Sonny.

 

He is smiling sweetly in all of them. He is quite the adorable little _muffin,_ but Anne doubts that he is going to agree to go out with three guys at once, at least, not without some manipulation and trickery on her part. 

 

She isn’t quite sure how to make this work yet, but maybe the key is that she doesn’t have to. 

 

She is, after all, in the introductions business. 

 

What happens after that is everyone else’s problem.

 

She leaves a message asking to meet on Sonny's voicemail. 

 


	12. The End of Bliss (Part 3)

 

Sonny spends the remainder of his afternoon wiping down tables, folding red paper napkins into napkin holders, and serving coffee and pastries to a group of animated little old ladies in a corner booth.

 

He brings out a plate of fresh cream profiteroles, and the table erupts into a series of  _oohs_  and  _aahs_.

 

As he serves their coffee orders, the smallest of the women puts on a thick pair of black rimmed dark glasses and stares at him intently.

 

“Are you the gay boy?” she says. “You don't look very much like  _Tyrone Power_  up close.”

 

Sonny looks nonplussed for a moment.

 

“You're very handsome,” says a stout middle-aged lady with fluffy blonde hair. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

 

Sonny flushes. “Well – ”

 

The ladies lean in.

 

“Not yet,” says Sonny.

 

The ladies lean back.

 

“It's really too early to say,” he says.

 

“But there is someone special?” asks a quiet intense woman with a grey cardigan. This is the first time she has spoken to him.

 

Sonny nods.

 

“Is he handsome?” prods the fluffy blonde.

 

“Yes, very handsome,” Sonny says.

 

The ladies share looks.

 

“My son is gay,” says the lady in the grey cardigan. “He's studying to be a doctor. He's very handsome.”

 

The other ladies nod in unison.

 

“That's nice,” says Sonny politely.

 

“I wish my son was gay,” says the lady with the glasses. “Gay boys are so neat and I heard that they always do their own laundry.”

 

“Don't tell me that your Saul is still bringing home his laundry?” says the blonde.

 

She nods.

 

“ _Oh, Esther,”_  says the woman in the cardigan.

 

“I don't mind, really,” says the long-suffering Esther.

 

“You have to get him married-off straight away,” says the fluffy blonde.

 

The other woman nods.

 

“Or you could introduce him to a laundromat,” says Sonny, putting a pot of sugar on the table.

 

Fifteen minutes later, he is sitting at the booth talking about local laundromats, venture capital investments and where to buy the best bagels in Salem. (It's  _Bernie's_ , in Salem Plaza).

 

Sonny is thoroughly enjoying himself, in spite of T, who keeps sending him irate looks from behind the counter.

 

(Honestly, it isn't as if the café is that busy, anyway.)

 

And Sonny is in such a good mood that nothing can bring him down.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Will is still buzzing from the success of his date with Sonny.

 

The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and fate is conspiring to throw attractive, athletically-toned joggers into his path at every turn. It's as if a whole new world has opened up for him and he's the star of his own gay-themed 1980's all-male music video. (And it's smokin' hot). 

 

It's a _sign._

 

Happy with life, he smiles at an oncoming jogger. The jogger slows down and stumbles as Will walks past. Will is realistic enough to know that most of the joggers coming through the park are probably  _not gay_ , but still, he hasn't seen this much toned male flesh on display since he went to see  _Magic Mike_  at the local Salem cineplex with T.

 

Another muscle-bound hunk trots by and Will subtly swivels his head to watch his retreating back, when the jogger suddenly loops around, and stares at Will.

 

Their eyes meet.

 

There is that first, fast impression of a smooth masculine jaw, tousled light brown blonde hair and clear dark blue eyes. The all-American football jock type.

 

“Hey,” says the guy.

 

“Hey,” says Will.

 

_Walk away! Walk away!_

 

“Nice day for a walk?” the guy says.

 

He is totally checking Will out. Old Will wants to make a run for it, but new Will stands his ground. He stares back defiantly.

 

“I think it's gonna rain, later,” Will says, about to turn and leave.

 

“Don't I know you?” says the guy, jogging up to him. “You go to Salem Uni, yeah?”

 

Will says, “You go, too?”

 

“Yeah, I've seen you around on campus,” he says. He holds out his hand to shake. “I'm Neil.”

 

“Will,” says Will, introducing himself.

 

“Nice to meet you Will.”

 

He is taller than Will. Will has to tilt his head to look at his face.

 

“So, I go jogging around here most days,” says Neil. “Maybe I'll see you around?”

 

“Uh, yeah,” says Will. “Maybe.”

 

Neil smiles. His teeth gleam a perfect glistening white.

 

He jogs away.

 

Will stares at his departing back.

 

* * *

 

Paul arrives back at his hotel suite after visiting his agent, to find the bellhop in the hallway, knocking at his door with a newspaper folded under his arm.

 

“Hello?” says Paul.

 

“Oh,” says the bellhop, staring at him.

 

“Did you want something?” he says.

 

“Oh, uh, I brought you your newspaper,” the bellhop says. “Unless – you've already read it?”

 

“I haven't read it,” says Paul. “Can I have it now?”

 

The bellboy passes the newspaper to him.

 

“Was there something else?” asks Paul.

 

“No – ” says the bellhop. “Well, that is, if you haven't already, you might want to read the  _Sonix_  article online.”

 

Paul opens up the newspaper. On the front page, he sees a large picture of himself standing between and Anne and Theresa, keeping them apart.

 

“Excuse me,” he says, his heart slipping into his throat. Anytime he sees his name in print, there's the recurring fear that he will be outed in the press. He slips into his hotel room and re-opens the paper. He drags his eyes over the article.

 

It reads, “Love Feud Erupts Over All-Star”.

 

The sub-heading reads, “Women Taken to Hospital After Vicious Catfight Over Baseball All-Star Paul Narita.”

 

He scans the rest of the article. There is nothing about the dating agency, or About him being gay. It's ridiculous and over-blown, but it's not the end of the world.

 

He lets himself breathe again.

 

He gets up and goes to the bathroom, intending to shower and change. That's when he remembers that the bellhop said he should read the  _Sonix_  article. It's probably more of the same rubbish, but he powers on his iPad, and does a search.

 

On the title page of the Sonix cover is his headshot with the title: “Lonely All-Star Trading $$$ for Love.”

 

* * *

 

 

_All-Star baseball pitcher Paul Narita, is looking for love – and paying a local Salem dating agency thousands of dollars in fees to find him a love match._

 

 _Theresa Donovan, a former employee of the_ __Bliss Dating Agency_ _ _, claims that whilst she was working there, the agency was being offered large sums of money by a mystery Japanese-speaking intermediary to find their client a date._

 

 “Money was no object,” says Donovan.

 

_Narita, a prominent figure around the Los Angeles dating scene, was formerly linked to high profile model/actor Holly Bigelow, but their affair seemed to fizzle out when Bigelow returned to the States to pursue her acting career._

 

_A colleague of Narita's said, “He seemed to be very down over the break-up. I don't think he has ever truly gotten over Holly. He seems very lonely.”_

 

_Donovan claims that last Friday she agreed to go on a date with Narita, as a favour to agency owner and matchmaker, Anne Milbauer. At the time, Donovan did not know the superstar pitcher's identity._

 

_Donovan said, “I don't usually do this sort of thing. It was just a favour to a friend. When I went to meet Paul for dinner, it was in a private dining room, and we were the only two people there. We'd only been there a couple of minutes before he suggested we go back to his hotel room. He was really keen. I thought he was hot, but I'm not the sort of person to go straight to a stranger's hotel room for sex. I need to be shown a good time first.”_

 

 _Donovan, who was placed on a good behaviour bond and remanded to Salem on drug and alcohol related charges, says that after she refused Narita's advances, he took them to_ Romeo's Bar and Grill _where he met up with Milbauer and they had a heated argument._

 

“ _Anne (Milbauer) became enraged when she saw me out with Paul,” said Donovan. “She began saying vile things and became violent. I think she was jealous.” Donovan and Milbauer's argument escalated into a brawl and both ladies were later taken to the hospital. Donovan for a black eye, sprained toe and a possible concussion._

 

_"There's a pile of money in the dating business," said Donovan. She claims she never received a cent from the agency or Paul Narita._

 

“ _I was just looking for someone to love,” she said. “I certainly didn't get paid.”_

 

* * *

 

“I'm going to sue!” Theresa says furiously.

 

She is standing in Saul Levinson's shabby chic Salem office, waving her iPad in her hand. Saul is sitting in his chair sipping coffee.

 

“I still don't know what you're doing here,” says Saul.

 

“Listen to this,” says Theresa, reading from the iPad. “ _I thought he was hot, but I'm not the sort of person to go straight to a stranger's hotel room for sex. I need to be shown a good time first.”_ She stares at Saul. “It's slander!”

 

“It's libel when it's written down,” says Saul bored. “Did you actually say that?”

 

Theresa says, “No!”

 

He shoots her a flat look over his espresso. “Did the person doing the interview tape it?”

 

“Ye-es,” says Theresa remembering.

 

“So, did you say it?” asks Saul again.

 

“Maybe,” says Theresa.

 

“It's unlikely we can prove libel if it's true,” says Saul.

 

“But what about the bit where I was placed on a good behaviour bond and remanded to Salem on drug and alcohol charges! She can't say that! It makes me sound like a drunken, drugged up slut.”

 

“Are you on a good behaviour bond?” asks Saul.

 

“Yes, but she is not allowed to say it!” says Theresa.

 

“How did she find out? Did you tell her?” says Saul.

 

“Maybe. But that doesn't mean she has my permission to print that!” says Theresa.

 

“Did you take money in exchange for the interview?” asks Saul. “Did you exclude her from writing about that part?”

 

“I can't remember,” says Theresa. “I'd been drinking and was on drugs.”

 

Saul gives her a look.

 

“Don't look at me like that. They were medicinal drugs for my toe. Painkillers,” says Theresa.

 

“Well, if she paid you for the article, there is one thing you can do,” asks Saul.

 

“What?” says Theresa eagerly.

 

“”Pay me the two hundred and fifty bucks you owe me,” says Saul.

 

“Get lost!” said Theresa storming out.

 

“Expect the bill in the mail!” said Saul to her departing back.

 

* * *

 

Brian shows up at Sonny's café, just as the late afternoon lunch crowd is dying down. The old ladies have left and there's only a few straggling college students on the way to classes, and the odd casual shopper sipping a cappuccino.

 

“Brian!” says Sonny, when he comes in.

 

Brian's face is unusually serious. He sits at the bar to talk to Sonny.

 

““Sonny,” he asks, “Did you mean it?"

 

Sonny looks confused for a moment.

 

"When you took me off your dating list?”

 

“Oh, that,” says Sonny. Remembering. “Well, it's kind of a yes, kind of no.” He doesn't want to lead Brian on, so he comes straight out with it. “I didn't mean to tell you that way, but I'm seeing someone now. I was going to tell you when I saw you again, face to face. I wouldn't have done it with a text.  _Or dating software._ ”

  

“I'm sorry,” says Sonny sitting next to him. “I had a glitch and it deleted your profile.”

 

“But you're still seeing someone?”

 

Sonny nods.

 

“Did we ever have a chance?” says Brian.

 

“It just – it wasn't the right time,” says Sonny. “I never meant to for you to think that this was more than it was. I like you – I just don't –”

 

“ – love me,” says Brian.

 

Sonny's silence is all the answer he needs.

 

“I get it,” says Brian. “I guess it's my own fault.”

 

“You'll find someone, Brian,” says Sonny.

 

“Sonny,  _don't_ ,” says Brian. “Can I just have – Can't I just have _one minute_ to mourn this relationship before I move on to the next one?”

 

“Okay,” says Sonny, sitting with him quietly.

 

After a minute, Brian says, “Sonny, you're not going to sit there for exactly one minute are you?”

 

“I was thinking of making it two or three,” says Sonny.

 

“Sonny –”

 

A rueful laugh, then Brian turns to look at Sonny.

 

“I will miss this,“ he says.

 

He sweeps Sonny into an unexpected kiss, gathering him up in his arms, and fitting them together like matching pieces of a puzzle. It's intense and sexual and stirring, and whilst it's happening, Sonny doesn't – _can't_ – let go.

 

It's like all his moments with Brian: when Brian is there, Sonny can barely manage to think of anything else because of the intense electrical current buzzing between them. But when he's gone, all of Sonny's other thoughts come sweeping back to the fore.

 

_It's not that Sonny can't imagine a relationship with Brian, it's just that if he has to choose –_

_It's not Brian that he chooses._

 

He becomes slowly aware of the sounds of the café: the slow murmur of customers in the background, the hiss of the coffee machine, and T clanking the cutlery and slamming cups onto the counter with unnecessary force.  _He is going to break something._

 

Sonny emits a soft murmur and Brian's hold weakens. Their lips peel apart with a soft pop. As Sonny breathes against his face, Brian's arms tighten for a small second, then Sonny is released and Brian is striding past him, through the café and out the door.

 

Sonny puts his fingers over his mouth, still feeling a faint electrical tingle prickle on his lips.

 

After a minute he becomes aware of his mobile phone vibrating in his pocket.

 

He answers it.

 

Anne wants to meet at the Agency in a hour.

 

Sonny agrees. Now that Will is no longer a client, and Sonny has broken things off with Brian, there is nothing tying Sonny to the agency anymore. He thinks it is probably best to conclude his association with Anne in person.

 

And there is just about enough time to meet her and come back to the café for his date with Will. 

 

* * *

 

Paul puts on his baseball cap and dark sunglasses as he exits the hotel. He thinks that a few members of the press will probably be watching the front of The Salem Inn, so he enlists the help of the bellhop to leave from the back entrance and pick up his hire car one block away from the hotel.

 

He enters Anne's building from a side entrance, taking the stairwell to the second floor and Anne's office. Paul knocks on the inner door. Anne answers.

 

“I thought you were coming in disguise?” she says.

 

“I did,” said Paul, pointing to his hat and sunglasses.

 

Anne gives him a look. “You didn't think to cover up the million dollar arm? Or the ten million dollar physique?”

 

Paul says, “On the street I look just everybody else.”

 

“Right,” says Anne flatly. Then, “Come in, take a seat.”

 

“I won't be sitting down,” says Paul. “Miss Milbauer – ”

 

“Before you start, Mr Narita, I want to convey my sincere and abject apologies for everything that happened yesterday. Your privacy and well-being is, of course, my highest priority.”

 

“You haven't done a good job of protecting my reputation so far,” says Paul.

 

“Miss Donovan was not affiliated with the  _Bliss! Jewish Dating Agency_. She was fired over six weeks ago.”

 

“So you said last night. But I am more interested in finding out what steps you are taking to secure my privacy now.”

 

“I have a new plan,” says Anne. “It is a plan tailored to meet all of your requirements for the present and the future.”

 

“Okay?” says Paul, doubtfully.

 

“I have found the one,” says Anne. “Your  _The One_.  _The One_  that meets all of your requirements. I'll keep this relationship off the books, no records. All the records will be kept in here.” She taps her head. “Mind like a steel trap.”

 

“Wait a minute,” says Paul. “Are you trying to set me up on another date? What makes you think I would ever trust you again?”

 

“Did I mention your  _The One_?” says Anne.

 

“Didn't you just hear what I said?” says Paul.

 

“ _The One_  is a once in a lifetime love,” says Anne, in a voice quite unlike her usual brisk tone. “Everyone wants to find their  _The One_  but not everybody has one, or else they miss each other like ships passing in the night. People will travel the oceans, and climb tall mountains for their chance to meet their  _The One – but_ I've found yours, here in Salem.”

 

“Seriously?” says Paul. “Do you honestly think I'm going to fall for this – whatever it is? _”_

 

The outer door creaks open, but Paul isn't paying attention.

 

“There is no such thing as a 'once in a lifetime love' _,"_ he says.

 

Anne says, “I have _the Gift of the shadken_ , and I am telling you that I have found your _One_. _”_

 

“You're not hearing me, Miss Milbauer,” says Paul. “I'm not staying, and I wouldn't trust you to find a match in a matchstick book. Consider yourself fired.”

 

There is a knock on the office door.

 

“It's  _The One,_ ” says Anne in a hushed awed tone.

 

In spite of himself, Paul turns around to look.

 

“ _Enter,”_  says Anne, impressively. 

 

The door creaks open and a face appears.

 

Paul turns and stares.  

 


	13. Cliffhanger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mini update

There is a knock on the office door.

 

“It's  _ _The One__ _,_ ” says Anne in a hushed awed tone.

 

In spite of himself, Paul turns around to look.

 

“ _Enter,”_  says Anne.

 

The door creaks open and a face appears. Paul turns around and stares.

 

“Hello there, handsome,” says Theresa, appearing in the doorway.

 

“What the fuck?” says Anne.

 

“I can't deal with this right now,” says Paul, trying to leave.

 

He is prevented by Theresa, snagging his arm.

 

“Paul, I'm sorry,” says Theresa. “That horrible journalist came up to when I was drugged up on painkillers, and took advantage of my confused mental state.”

 

“He doesn't believe a word out of your lying, trashy mouth,” says Anne. “Let go of his arm.”

 

“Are we going to do this, again?” says Theresa. “Really? Are you already on the sauce? Did you make an early start to Happy Hour?”

 

Paul looks longingly at the door.

 

His mind wanders back to a time when he was on the baseball diamond on third, bases loaded, watching the hitter and pitcher arguing on the mound; he sneaks a look at the home plate. 

 

He feels Theresa's fingers loosen.

 

He makes a run for it.

 

Startled, Theresa makes a grab for him, but he is, after all, a professional athlete, and she is a girl wearing really high heels. He is out in the corridor before she can give chase, and he's pressing the elevator button praying for the lift as Theresa and Anne come pelting down the corridor – Theresa screaming for him, Anne on her heels.

 

Theresa is faster, but Anne makes a running leap for her legs.

 

Paul makes a run for the stairwell.

 

He takes the steps two at a time, and bursts out of door at ground level. The bright light hits his eyes. Accustomed to the dark and wearing dark sunglasses, Paul doesn't see the person standing outside the door until it is too late.

 

They collide. Paul reaches out for the stair rail, and manages to grab it as he stumbles.

 

Sonny is not so lucky.

 

He goes tumbling backwards down the steps, his arms pinwheeling, with nothing to break his fall. He loses his footing and lands on his back, his skull hitting the concrete with a loud crack.

 

He lies at the bottom of the steps, unmoving.

 

 

 


	14. The End of Bliss (Part 4)

Paul stares in horror at the stranger lying motionless at the bottom of the steps. For a moment, he's frozen in shock.

 

There is the muffled sound of two women screaming at each other in the distance, but Paul can't think of what he should do next. He may have just killed someone.

 

_Dear God, please don't let him have killed someone._

 

He kneels by the prone man's side and checks his pulse for a heart beat. He becomes suddenly aware of the throb of blood pounding in the veins beneath his fingertips, the rise and fall of the man's chest, and the warm breath exhaling from his slack mouth.

 

“Hey,” says Paul, touching his cheek. “Are you okay?”

 

The eyelids flutter. Paul leans in, so close that he can count each eyelash laying on the man's pale cheek.

 

“It's okay,” says Paul. “It's going to be all right.”

 

The man groans and Paul's stomach twists in concern. He looks _so_ pale.

 

“Hold tight, I'm calling for an ambulance,” says Paul, fumbling for his mobile.

 

The stranger's hand reaches out for Paul's before he can finish dialling and Paul finds himself staring into a set of beautiful wide dark eyes.

 

His heart flutters wildly.

 

It's probably from the relief of not being a killer after all.

 

“Hi,” says Paul.

 

The young man tries to rise and Paul places his arm around his back to help him to sit up.

 

“Are you okay?” Paul asks.

 

“Yes. I _think so_ ,” says the man. He still looks dazed. “Can you help me stand up?”

 

“Are you sure you should?” says Paul, but the man is already rising; he wobbles and Paul is instantly there to catch him.

 

“Sorry,” says the man apologetically, sagging against him.

 

“You need to go to the hospital,” says Paul.

 

“In a bit,” says the man. “I just got dizzy. I'll be all right in a minute.”

 

They are both almost the same height, but the other man has a slighter build. His chin is resting against Paul's shoulder. Paul has his arm around his back. He smells like soap and coffee.

 

The man is the first to move away, but when another wave of dizziness hits, he topples.

 

Paul scoops him up.

 

“I'm taking you to the hospital. It's not far from here,” Paul says. He starts carrying him towards his car.

 

“I think I can walk,” says the man.

 

Paul ignores him. He unlocks the car with his key fob and sets him back on his feet.

 

For a moment they stare at each other.

 

“Have we met before?” the other man asks curiously. “I feel as if I know you from somewhere.”

 

“No,” Paul says, ignoring the obvious answer. He has probably seen Paul pitch. “I must have one of those common faces.”

 

He helps him into the passenger seat and straps him into his seat belt.

 

The man rests his head and closes his eyes.

 

“Don't fall asleep,” says Paul.

 

The man opens his eyes to stare at him.

 

“Why not?” he asks.

 

“I don't know,” says Paul. “I just think it's the right thing to do. Try to stay awake until we get to the hospital.”

 

Paul gets into the driver's seat, feeling the other man's eyes watch him as he pulls out of the parking lot.

 

 

* * *

 

Anne is scrapping with Theresa in the corridor leading to the _Bliss! Jewish Dating Agency._ They're rolling along the floor and Anne has Theresa's hair in one hand, whilst Theresa's hands are pushing at Anne's face.

 

Paul left over ten minutes ago, and if Anne is honest with herself, her heart really isn't in the fight anymore.

 

She rolls off Theresa and lies on the floor panting.

 

“This is stupid,” says Anne. “You used to be my best friend.”

 

“I haven't felt as if you've been on my side for a long time,” says Theresa. “Not since you hired me to work at the agency.”

 

“That was a favour,” says Anne.

 

“You expected me to do work,” says Theresa. “It was a nightmare.”

 

“Well thank God you don't work for me anymore,” says Anne.

 

“Amen to that,” says Theresa.

 

They both lay on the floor staring at the ceiling.

 

“Do you think we will ever be friends again?” says Anne.

 

“I don't know if I can ever forgive you,” says Theresa.

 

“What?” says Anne.

 

“If you mention that coffee machine, I swear I will smack you in the mouth,” says Theresa. “I don't have it anymore. My landlady took it, in lieu of rent, and won't give it back.”

 

“So it's really gone?” says Anne.

 

“Yes,” says Theresa.

 

“Unless we steal it back from her,” says Anne.

 

“Why would I even agree to do such a thing?” says Theresa.

 

“Come on,” scoffs Anne.

 

“No, I meant, what's in it for me?” says Theresa.

 

Anne stares at the ceiling, thinking.

 

“I will sign you up as a client of the agency,” says Anne. “At no charge. But I keep the commission of all the dates I pair you with.”

 

“What?” says Theresa. “You mean I don't get a cut?”

 

“You get free introductions to a select series of men that are handpicked for their suitability and bank balances. That is a great advantage,” says Anne. “I will ween out the losers.”

 

“Why would I even want to join your lame agency?” says Theresa.

 

“Because I have the gift,” says Anne.

 

“Oh come on,” scoffs Theresa.

 

“I also have Paul Narita,” says Anne, somewhat untruthfully.

 

It is not a complete lie. She will have Paul Narita at her agency again. She is sure of it. Tomorrow is another day. 

 

And Anne has a plan.

 

“I accept your offer,” says Theresa. “But only because I miss you.” 

 

* * *

 

Paul parks in front of the hospital and carries his stranger into the emergency wing, overriding his objections that he can walk.

 

“I need some help here,” says Paul and a nurse comes, pushing a wheelchair.

 

“I can stand,” says the stranger.

 

Paul sets him on his feet, carefully keeping hold of him so he doesn't topple over.

 

“Sit in the chair,” says Paul.

 

“I can _stand_ ,” says the other man, balancing on his feet, holding Paul's arm for support.

 

“Really?” says Paul skeptically, keeping his arm around him. “Then prove it.”

 

Paul is suddenly the focus of a long flat stare.

 

“Are you always this bossy?” says the stranger.

 

Paul's lips twitch in a smile. 

 

“Are you always this stubborn?” he responds. 

 

“ _Me_ stubborn?” the other man says in disbelief.

 

“Here, let me help you into the chair,” Paul says soothingly, lowering him into the wheelchair. The stranger grumbles. 

 

"See, that wasn't hard at all, was it?" Paul says. He tries not to smile but his amusement wins out. 

 

The stranger grins back ruefully. Their eyes meet. Paul is once again drawn into those luminous dark eyes.

 

The stare is only broken when a pretty lady doctor comes over, fussing over her new patient and calling him by name.

 

 _Sonny_.

 

“It's nothing, Aunt Kayla,” Sonny says. “I just cracked my head when I fell on the sidewalk.”

 

Paul says, “He fell down a short flight of steps and hit the ground _really_ hard. When he came to, he was dizzy when he tried to stand.”

 

Sonny shoots him a dark look.

 

Kayla looks thoughtful.

 

“Let's just get you checked out,” she says to Sonny, wheeling him away.

 

“I'll be waiting out here,” Paul says to Sonny. Then turns to look at Kayla and asks, “Will you keep me updated?”

 

“I will need my patient's permission,” Kayla says slowly, looking between them.

 

Sonny nods impatiently and says, “Let's just go.” He attempts to wheel away his own chair, before Kayla catches up to him.

 

Paul's mobile rings. It's his agent. Paul tells him what happened with Anne, but leaves out the bit about Sonny. He doesn't want to share what happened with Sonny. Not yet.

 

It's personal.

 

 

* * *

 

“You have a concussion,” says Kayla. “I think the best thing to do is to keep you here overnight, so we can watch you.”

 

“But I have _a date_ ,” says Sonny.

 

“I'm sure your date will understand,” says Kayla. “He seemed very concerned about you.”

 

Sonny looks confused.

 

“He's a hottie,” says Kayla.

 

“He's not -” Sonny flashes to the memory of being carried in Paul's muscular arms. “I mean, that's not him,” he says. “It's someone else.”

 

“Well, I'm sure that boy will understand as well,” says Kayla soothingly.

 

“I don't know,” says Sonny, fretting. “I don't have his phone number. He'll think that I stood him up.”

 

Sonny sits up, levering his legs off the bed.

 

“Hey,” says Kayla, holding his arm. “Where do you think you're going?”

 

“I have to go to the coffee house,” says Sonny.

 

“You have to stay in bed,” says Kayla. “Do you want me to call your mother and tell her you're refusing to follow doctor's orders?”

 

“No. Don't bother her,” says Sonny.

 

“Then follow doctor's orders and _stay in bed_ ,” she commands.

 

Sonny gets back into bed.

 

“Can I have my phone?” he says. “There is someone I need to call.”

 

Kayla rifles through the drawers where Sonny's clothes and belongings are stored.

 

“I can't find it,” she says. “Let me ask around. In the meantime, _lie down_.”

 

Sonny feels weak, so he lays his head back against the pillows. After a minute his eyes close.

 

* * *

 

 

“What do you want?” says Anne, when Saul knocks on the door and pokes in his head.

 

“What happened to your furniture?” he says.

 

“It's being polished,” says Anne.

 

“Don't kid a kidder,” says Saul, inviting himself in. “I've heard you've had a run of bad luck. Creditors pounding at your door, and that _Sonix Magazine_ article – It hardly paints the agency in a flattering light.”

 

“That's where you're wrong,” says Anne. “As far as I am concerned there _is no such thing_ as bad publicity. People will be signing up in droves for the chance to date a handsome millionaire baseball player. In fact, the phone has been ringing off the hook all morning.”

 

“I find that hard to believe,” says Saul. He wanders over to her desk and holds the receiver to his ears. It's quiet. “There's is no dial tone. How long have you been disconnected?”

 

“What?” Anne grabs the receiver from him and taps the buttons on the phone trying to get a dial tone.

 

_Nada._

 

“Face it, Annie,” says Saul. “This business has flatlined. But you know what? My coming here may just be the answer to your prayers.”

 

“Dream on,” she says.

 

“I have a potential investor who is interested in this business,” says Saul. “They are offering to supply venture capital in return for a stake in the company.”

 

“What investor?” says Anne. “Who is it?”

 

“I don't have authority to say,” says Saul. “But I have a proposal here with me, and the terms are very generous. They see potential in this business and they want you to continue to oversee it.”

 

“They know that I draw the top clients,” says Anne smugly. “That's why they're interested.”

 

“No, I don't really think that's it,” says Saul.

 

“Well I'm not selling out,” says Anne. “The _Bliss! Jewish Dating Agency_ will recover, and be more _blissful_ and more _Jewish_ than ever!”

 

“You have no desk,” says Saul. “And no phone.” He waves the notice of eviction he pulled off the door. “Very soon you won't have an office.”

 

“I don't need a desk, or a phone,” says Anne. “Or an office. I have something more important than that.”

 

“And what is that?” says Saul.

 

“I have _the gift_ ,” says Anne.

 

Saul says, “Better you should take the money.”

 

* * *

 

T has finished serving coffee to a group of little old ladies when Will arrives at Common Grounds.

 

“Hey buddy,” he says.

 

“Hi,” says Will, looking around.

 

“You come here to hang?” says T. “I mean two visits in two days. I'm honoured.”

 

“Um. Yeah, about that,” says Will. “I've actually come here to see Sonny.”

 

“What's up with that?” says T. “You two suddenly being best buds?” He meant it to be teasing, but he couldn't help the bitter tone from creeping in. Will hadn't hung around with him in months, and they'd been inseparable for years. But since Will had started going to university, it's like T wasn't good enough anymore. 

 

He's not a college boy, like _Sonny_.

 

Will says, “No, no. We just had plans to hang out tonight. He was – um – going to give me some help with one of my courses.”

 

“How come we never talk anymore?” says T. “What's been going on with you?”

 

“Yeah, I'm sorry about that,” says Will. “I've just been – busy – with coursework and stuff.”

 

“Uh huh,” says T.

 

“Is – um – Sonny here?” says Will.

 

“He went out earlier,” says T.

 

“Is he coming back?” Will asks.

 

“I suppose so,” says T. “He usually closes the café.”

 

“I'll wait then,” says Will. He picks a table.

 

T says, “You gonna order?”

 

“I'll have a diet Coke,” Will says.

 

* * *

 

When Sonny wakes, there is a strange man sitting in a chair next to his bed.

 

He is dressed in a casual black cotton henley shirt and jeans, but on him it's almost elegant. As he sits in the chair with his elbows resting on the arms and his legs casually crossed, he looks princely, somehow.

 

He turns and looks at Sonny. His face breaks into a smile.

 

“Hey, you're awake,” he says.

 

Sonny remembers. It's the man that carried Sonny to the hospital.

 

“Hello,” says Sonny.

 

There is an awkward lull in the conversation.

 

Sonny says, “You didn't have to–”

 

Paul says, “How do you feel–”

 

“Sorry,” they both say at the same time. They smile at each other.

 

Paul says, “You go first.”

 

“You didn't have to wait,” says Sonny.

 

“I _wanted_ to,” says Paul. “I was worried. You banged your head pretty hard.”

 

“I have a hard head,” says Sonny.

 

“Luckily,” says Paul. “I'm _so_ sorry. I didn't see you standing there.”

 

“You were flying out of that building like a bat out of hell,” says Sonny. “What was wrong?”

 

“It was nothing,” says Paul.

 

Sonny senses a story. He waits, letting the silence draw Paul out.

 

“Ok. Not nothing,” says Paul. “I just – I don't like being lied to. Or lied about.” He thinks about the _Sonix_ article and frowns.

 

“Someone lied to you?” says Sonny.

 

“I should have expected it. It was no more than her usual line of bullshit,” says Paul, thinking of Anne.

 

_She._

 

 _A girlfriend?_ Sonny feels strangely let down. But it shouldn't really matter. It's not as if Sonny doesn't have his own –

 

_Will!_

 

Sonny shoots up in bed. It makes his head swim, but after a moment he fights through it.

 

Paul looks at him with concern.

 

“My phone, I need my phone,” says Sonny. “Did Kayla come back with it?”

 

“You mean the doctor?”

 

By this time Sonny has made a search of his table and dressing table drawers and knows for himself that his phone isn't there.

 

“What's the time? Do you know what the time is?” Sonny says. “How long have I been asleep?”

 

“It's eight thirty,” says Paul.

 

“I'm late. _It's so late,”_ says Sonny. “Where is my _phone?”_

 

“You can use mine if you'd like.”

 

Paul hands over his phone. He walks to the window and looks out whilst Sonny dials T at the coffee house to ask if he's seen Will.

 

“He was here a couple of hours ago,” says T. “But he's gone now.”

 

“He's gone?” says Sonny hollowly.

 

_Of course he's gone. He's not going to wait two hours._

 

“Past seven,” says T.

 

Sonny is quiet.

 

“What happened to you?” says T. “I thought you were coming back. He waited around, but when you didn't show...”

 

“I had a small accident,” says Sonny.

 

“No way!” says T. “Are you okay?”

 

“I'm fine,” says Sonny. “No broken bones. I should be out of the hospital tomorrow.”

 

“You want me to open the café in the morning, Boss?” says T.

 

“Yeah,” says Sonny sadly. “That would be great. Thanks T.”

 

A silence falls over the phone line.

 

Sonny thinks that Will is bound to be upset that he got stood up. Will is so sensitive to things like that. The worst thing is, Sonny can't call Will back because he doesn't know his phone number, and he can't message him, because Will told him that he took down his dating profile. He supposes he could ring Will's work, but Will probably won't get the message until the next day, assuming that Will is even working tomorrow.

 

_It's hopeless._

 

T says, “You know, I have Will's phone number if you want to ring him.”

 

“ _Yes!”_ Sonny almost roars down the line. “T, you are a _legend_!”

 

Paul looks over at him.

 

T laughs on the other end of the line.

 

Sonny punches the buttons on Paul's phone again.

 

“Answer the phone Will,” says Sonny impatiently.

 

He gets Will's answering message. He leaves a message after the beep.

 

“Will! I am _so so sorry_ I missed our date. I wanted to be there, but I had a bit of an accident. I'm okay, but I'm just being checked out now. I was really hoping we could reschedule. So – um – bye, and have a nice night."

 

He clicks off the phone.

 

Paul says quietly, “Was that your _– boyfriend?”_

 

Sonny looks up. “No, it was – a – a date.”

 

Paul says, “You sounded pretty serious.”

 

“Maybe one day,” says Sonny. “But we've only actually gone out twice.”

 

“Twice?” says Paul. “So, it's just new, then?”

 

Sonny nods.

 

“And I made you miss it?” says Paul. “I'm sorry about that.” He is smiling.

 

“I know you didn't do it on purpose,” says Sonny.

 

“I didn't,” said Paul. “But let me make it up to you.”

 

“How were you planning to do that?” says Sonny.

 

Paul settles into the chair next to Sonny's bed and makes himself comfortable.

 

“You choose,” says Paul. “I'm all yours for the rest of the night.”

 

 


End file.
